


The Long gun of the Law

by JackTheBard



Category: League of Legends
Genre: F/M, League of Legends - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-21 03:38:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2453291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackTheBard/pseuds/JackTheBard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally posted on the League of Legends Forums, then on Fanfiction.net, now here. The story of a summoner (self insert OC from 3 years ago) falling in love with his champion of choice and the incidents that follow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It began in a bar. Just like all great adventures in fantasy worlds, it began with a small group of friends sitting at a table together, carousing, and alternating between laughter and pints of ale. My friends and I had just finished with a long day at the Ministry of War, training ourselves to be better summoners, (though some of us needed more practice than others) and were finally taking a load off in our favorite bar in Bilgewater.

My name is Jack, though when I sailed the high seas, I was known as “Spicy Jack, the Bard of Bilgewater” for my talents in storytelling and instruments. Not a very fearsome name, but it suited me just fine. The cool metal of the tankard in my hand jolted me back from daydreaming as one of my compatriots, an Ionian summoner named Lee, shouted for another round.

He and I were almost total opposites, he being tall and broad, while I was slightly shorter and slender. More importantly, he was a better combatant when it came to the League. In fact, all of the summoners at the table showed more skill than I did, though that is neither here nor there. When we came together as a group, we formed one of the deadliest teams to ever traverse the Fields of Justice.

“Oy! Jack!” he shouted, passing his tankard to a passing serving girl, “Are you having another?”

I shook my head with a smile on my face, “I’m afraid not, ‘Doom Slayer’,” I said, referring to the name he used on the Fields of Justice, “We agreed that I was going to be teleporting the rest of us back to the Ministry, and I don’t want to wind up throwing us into the ocean like last time.”

Guffaws erupted from all but Stephen, who instead threw an obscene gesture my way, causing more laughter to ensue. You see, whenever we go out for drinks away from the Ministry of War, one of us is asked to prepare a teleportation spell so we didn’t pass out in the streets of whatever city-state we were visiting, and tonight it was my turn. Last week, Stephen had drunk a little bit too much Graggy Ice, and wound up dumping us into the ocean about twenty feet from the pier we had been standing on.

Once the next round of beverages came by, we all returned to our conversation of our performances on the Fields today. “I’ve been thinking about doing a different build for Jax,” Stephen said, he being the best of all of us. If he had an idea for anything pertaining to the League of Legends, you knew it would be good. He proceeded to explain to us his idea for a jungling Jax build.

At those two “j” words, Wallace spoke up. Wallace came from Piltover, and always had a neatly trimmed beard, spectacles like mine, and usually wore a knit hat pulled down around his ears. “Jungle Jax?” he said, using the soft “j” sound. Whenever one of us would propose a build for the jungles of Summoner’s Rift, we would always use the soft “j”. So “Jungle Jax” sounded like “Yungle Yax”, “Jungle Skarner” turned into “Yungle Yarner” and so forth. It was yet another goofy habit we had all gotten into over the course of our working relationship.

Stephen, Lee, Wallace, two more Ionian summoners named Tay and John, a Frejlordian named Jakob, and myself all continued our conversation as we drank, and I foolishly chose to down a few more tankards of grog. I say foolishly because it may or may not have impaired my judgment in what I said after a while.

“Guys, I think I’m going to ask out one of the champions.”

Only John and Stephen heard me, the rest taking up a pirate’s drinking song that some of the other patrons of the bar joined in with. “Why would you want to do that?” John asked, leaning in close, almost shouting so his voice could be heard over the singing summoners and pirates.

“I don’t know, maybe it’s because I have a good working relationship with her already, and I genuinely like her.” I said, my voice slurring only slightly.

Stephen reached across the table (an easy feat for him, considering he was about as tall as Lee and a lot more slender), and smacked me in the head, knocking my spectacles slightly off-kilter.

“What was that for?!” I shout, the pain returning me slightly to sobriety.

“For even entertaining such a foolish notion. Depending on which champion you’re talking about, you may be digging yourself a shallower or deeper grave. Either way, it’s a bad thing. Don’t do it.”

John was a little more interested in who my intended was, “Which champion?”

“Caitlyn,” I responded, almost abashedly.

He had to stand up in order to reach across the table and smack me in the head.

“What was that for?!” I ask again, “I’m not used to this kind of abuse!”

“She’s out of your league,” John said, Stephen nodding beside him, “Have you taken a look at her? She’s freaking gorgeous. That, combined with the fact that she’s one of the most popular champions in the League right now… yeah, you’re kind of screwed.”

I felt the heat rising up my neck as I ran a hand through my short brown hair, a nervous habit of mine, “So? If Bob Nashahago could get a date with Nidalee, then why can’t I get one with Caitlyn?”

Stephen tried to smack me in the head again, though I evaded it, “First off, Bob is well known throughout Runeterra. You have barely made a blip on the radar. That, and Caitlyn is WAY more popular than Nidalee. Like John said: You don’t have a chance.”

I gave a slight shrug, “Doesn’t mean I can’t try.” By this point, Jakob and Lee had sat down with the three of us, having finished their song. Tay and Wallace continued to sing with the pirates, diving into rousing songs like “The Yordles Stole My Pots” and “The Noxian’s Wife”. The Frejlordian and Ionian were listening intently to the conversation between Stephen, John, and myself, and both burst out laughing when I made my last statement.

Jakob was the first to recover, tears in his eyes from laughter, “If you get a date with Caitlyn, I’ll kiss Cassiopeia in the middle of the street!” he said, clapping me on the back, his face turning red from both alcohol and mirth. “Seeing you trying to ask out Caitlyn is going to be a lot more entertaining than watching you play, though it will be just as painful to see,” Lee added, giving me a great white smile.

I looked at the other four summoners at the table, “Alright, with you lot as my witnesses, if I get a date with Caitlyn, Sherriff of Piltover, then we’ll have to ensure that Jakob has a date with Cassiopeia.” They all smiled drunken grins right back at me and nodded. I barked a laugh and downed the rest of my beverage, slamming it back on the table. The resulting belch caused the pirates at the table next to us to cheer and raise their tankards in salute, one that I returned with a simple thumbs-up.

Standing, staggering, I gathered my compatriots, dragging Tay and Wallace away from their new-found friends. Walking with some difficulty out to the pier, we all made ready to return to the Ministry of War. A chanting incantation rose from my lips, and we could feel space bending around us as it folded to place the seven of us in a tree about one mile away from the Ministry. I wound up, upside down, my summoner’s robes tangled up in the branches, me being dangled upside down. Stephen began laughing as he made his way down to the ground saying, “See? I’m not the only one that messes up when drunk!”

“At least he got us further,” Wallace responded before vomiting in a nearby bush, and the bickering began anew.

I blocked their words out as we walked back to the Ministry. I had a date with destiny, and hopefully Caitlyn too.


	2. One good turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack makes a rather unhealthy crash into a certain sheriff.

We all woke up with the same screaming headache. Stephen’s was so intense he simply lay in bed for hours, moaning, until someone came around with breakfast. Naturally, the scent of eggs caused him to regurgitate the remaining poisons from the previous night.

Upon seeing us, one of the councilors rolled his eyes and told us that we were banned from the Fields of Justice for the day, even for practice, lest we bring shame to our city-states. All seven of us were grateful, though Stephen and Jakob were mildly disappointed that they wouldn’t even be able to keep their metaphorical blades sharp.

John, Stephen, Lee, and myself met in the common room for the hallway and began talking while Jakob ran to get tea for the lot of us. “Do you really think that Jakob will hold to his end of the bet if you actually get a date?” Lee asked me. “Most likely,” I responded, my raw throat making my sailor’s accent even thicker, “A Frejlordian doesn’t make that kind of promise unless he intends to keep it. They’re usually good to their word.” Various forms of quiet laughter arose from the table.

Jakob returned with five steaming ceramic cups of tea, which we all sipped quietly for a moment before returning to our conversation, “So how do you intend to ask out the Sherriff of Piltover?” the Frejlordian asked, “assist her in the night by chasing down a criminal?” He made a grand gesture, as if it was one of Taric’s romantic plays he was acting out, much to the amusement of my fellow summoners. “Nay,” I said, the honey in the tea having soothed my throat some, “though that would be a great idea if the situation called for it.”

Lee had been sitting there pensively, listening to the rest of us talk for a good while before he finally spoke up, his voice almost a whisper so he wouldn’t hurt his ears so much, “But how will we know you got a date? We’re not just going to follow you around Piltover until you run into her.” And I felt a smile work its way onto my face. “I know a little spell just for the occasion,” I said.

You see, being a summoner is not just about learning how to summon great champions from the corners of the world and pitting them against one another. Far from it. It’s also about being a competent mage. However, this competence is only usually assured when there is a nexus nearby. Otherwise, our magic could be hit-and-miss, and when it misses, it drains on your personal constitution instead. However, at the Ministry of War, there is a very large nexus that can provide enough of the right magical energy to fuel our spells, both on the Fields of Justice and off. Oddly enough, there are only two city-states with a nexus large enough to accommodate our magical needs: Bilgewater and Zaun. During my magical training, I had created a cantrip that creates an invisible eye that is always a few feet up and behind my head, and a corresponding spell that allows some to see what that eye sees.

I drew upon the power of the nexus, weaving the flows of magic with relative ease and gave each of my compatriots a means of viewing what the eye saw, much to their pleasure. “Now, you will all see as I see, and perhaps some more as well,” I told them, “If you gents will excuse me, I have to go and get ready.” With that, I rose and returned to my chambers to clean up and get dressed for my visit to Piltover. As I stood in the shower, letting the hot water clear my thoughts, I gazed at the tattoo on my left arm. Every summoner had one, and it could not be replicated. Mine simply read “SpicyJackTheBard” with a string of numbers below it. It was an easy way of identifying summoners, and one that none but the ministry of Justice could replicate, due to the magical nature of the ink used in the tattooing.

I shook my head, droplets of water flying from my short hair as I stepped out of the steam to dry off and shave. I removed everything save for a small patch of scruff on the end of my chin, much like what goats have, and rubbed the smooth skin to make sure the straight razor left behind no nicks. Replacing the spectacles on the bridge of my nose, I began to dress, slipping on a pair of thick wool trousers, a white linen shirt, and a belt with three throwing knives on one side and a short sword on the other. Slinging my lute across my back with its leather strap was a chore of its one, but a labor of love to keep the tuning right. Finally, I topped off the ensemble with a wide-brimmed hat. It was my preferred outfit to wear when I used to sail the high seas, and it still fit me comfortably. 

“How do I look?” I asked my friends in the common room, who had now been joined by Tay and Wallace.

Stephen rose to clap me on the back, taking care not to hit the wooden neck of my lute, “Utterly ridiculous,” he said, “But you can’t really look any other way, now can you?”

Laughter resounded from the table at his statement and even more as I returned the obscene gesture Stephen had given me last night. I looked away from him and looked at Jakob, “Remember your end of the bet!” I said, grinning, to which he responded, “I won’t have to! Judging from that outfit, you’re dead in the water already.”

Waving him off, I double-checked the pouch at my side which held more than enough money to put myself up for a week, plus food and drink, and teleported myself to Piltover.

The magic began to wobble a little bit as I stepped out in front of a tavern that I had been to a few times, due to the lack of nexus in Piltover, yet I still came out in one piece. I walked down the street with a spring in my step, returning polite waves and smiles and the occasional “Good morning”. My accent clearly labeled me from Bilgewater, yet few minded about the matter. It was one of the reasons I loved Piltover so. The people were always nice, and the trouble was usually caused by foreigners. Caitlyn was more likely than not the primary reason for the order of the town.

I stopped at a fruit vendor and bought an apple, chatting briefly about the current state of things before I walked off, taking a bite of my purchase. As I turned around a corner, I crashed into a man with long black hair and a brown trenchcoat, knocking me off my feet. He stumbled from the crash, yet kept running, his hands holding a black satchel close to his body. As I rose to my feet, I heard a cry of “Stop!” from behind me as I was knocked down again by the stray butt of a hextech rifle.

“Sorry!” she said, for it was indeed a she, as she crouched in front of me and tried to take aim with the long rifle to no avail. She rose from her crouch as I stood up, and continued to chase the thief. It was only after she had run in pursuit of the perpetrator that I realized my goal had just passed me by.

Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I swore under my breath and slammed a hand into the ground. No more than fifty feet away, the very street rose up to stop the thief dead in his tracks, a six foot tall, three foot wide wall of stone for the thief to slam into. The magic was taxing, yet it was worth it. Caitlyn, unperturbed by the sudden appearance of a stone wall, began cuffing the thief and reading him his rights. I rushed over, my head ringing from the sudden rush of magic, and knelt beside the Sherriff. She attempted to wave me away, “Stand back, citizen,” she said, “This is police business.”

“Keeping the peace is the duty of the Ministry as much as of the local law enforcement,” I said, pulling up my sleeve to reveal my tattoo.

“The wall was your work?” She said, looking at me with those cool blue eyes, wrenching the thief’s other arm behind him to finish cuffing him.

“Aye,” I said, cocking my head as I looked at the criminal, “Excuse me for a moment,” I said, pulling the cuffed man’s sleeve up, revealing a tattoo much like mine, one which read “Jaykoboy”.

“Ah,” was all that escaped my lips before I looked at the sherriff, “He’s a summoner, much like I am, which means he could break free of these chains if he wanted. The only reason he hasn’t done so already is because he’s in pain from smacking into a wall. May I make his arrest a little bit easier on everyone by ensuring that he can’t cast any more spells?”

Her gaze narrowed in suspicion. One could easily assume that she had not needed to deal with summoners as criminals before, so she had every reason to be suspicious. “By all means,” Caitlyn replied cautiously, the shadow cast by the brim of her hat making her appear almost menacing.

With a nod, I grabbed the man by his hair and slammed his forehead into the ground, knocking him out. As Caitlyn looked up at me with a glare that could curdle milk, I waved her off with “I did you a favor. He can’t cast when he’s asleep.” However, expending so much energy had taken its toll on me, and I groaned, slumping against the wall, clutching at my stomach which felt like it was trying to eat me alive.

Leaving the unconscious summoner there, she reached over to me before I waved her off, “It’s fine,” I said, “Just… casting that much magic takes a toll on my body.” She nodded and grabbed the unconscious man by his handcuffs, dragging him along with ease. With some effort, I rose and said, “Excuse me, Caitlyn,” causing her to turn around.

“Yes?”

“Perhaps, after you’re done with the paperwork for that one, you would like to meet at a restaurant not too far from here. It’s called ‘The Dancing Badger’, if you’re up for it.”

She cocked an eyebrow at me and tipped her hat, “For such an upstanding citizen, of course. In a half an hour, perhaps?”

I could barely contain my grin as I tipped my hat in return, “Of course. Just be sure to follow the music,” I told her, tapping the end of my lute that poked over my shoulder, then grimaced inwardly as I realized how much of a tuning the instrument would need.

She returned a grin and said, “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” before walking off, dragging an unconscious summoner behind her.

I turned around and smiled as I saw the wall sinking back into the ground before saying, “Looks like Jakob’s got a date with some snake lips.”

I could hear my friends’ laughter all the way from the Ministry of War.


	3. To sing for one's supper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day of playing and dancing with the sheriff awaits Jack as he arrives at the Dancing Badger

I made my way to “The Dancing Badger” in an almost tired manner, due to the fact that a recent feat of magic had drained me of a good portion of my energy. My stomach growled at me ferociously, almost sounding alive and with its own intentions as I walked. When I entered the tavern, the man behind the bar greeted me with a smile and a wave. Samon and I had spoken many times before during my visits to Piltover, and he had catered to my group’s drunken escapades more than once. He finished polishing the glass in hand and waved me over to the bar.

At his behest, I sat down, relieved to rest for a moment before moving again. Samon looked me up and down concernedly, “What’s the matter, Jack? You look ill,” he asked me, his voice carrying a Piltover accent much thicker than Caitlyn’s, yet carrying less than half the weight. 

“It’s fine,” I said, “Just a bit of food and I’ll be fine,” with that, he nodded and left, returning only seconds later with an end of bread and a glass of water. When I reached into my pouch to pay him for his service, he stopped my arm before it could leave the counter, “I’ll consider this on the house if you are willing to play a song or two for the lunch crowd when they come through here,” He offered me a grin beneath a bushy salt-and-pepper mustache.

After a word of thanks, I wolfed down the bread and drink, taking only the slightest care for table manners, and straightened up once I was finished. Carefully cleaning the crumbs off of my lips, I proceeded to tune the lute that had taken a small beating when I had fallen. The damage was not as bad as I thought, and I only had to modify the sound of three strings in order to get the proper tone.

It was almost magical how the second I finished tuning and began playing a few chords, the people of Piltover began to flow into the tavern, ranging from stall merchants to mechanics to businessmen. Several greeted Samon as they walked in, yet few paid me any mind. As Samon and his waitresses began running between the tables, getting food and drink for the patrons, I began to play. I started with a simple acoustic melody that I learned from a sailor when I was very young, then began playing tunes that everyone knew. More than a few people began singing along with the tune my lute strummed out, starting with “The Rocky Road to Demacia”, “Volibear and the Maiden Fair”, and “Sweet Harmony”. The last one was a particular favorite because it represented the people of Piltover so well.

As I played, more and more people trickled in, some of which cleared a space of unused tables for people to dance in. As they did this, I laughed. My sole intention was to provide a little entertainment for the people of the city-state until Caitlyn arrived, but it seemed that I was a male Sona upon this day. The music encouraged people to stand up and dance, to grab a partner from the crowd and spin them around once or twice in a circle of clapping hands and stomping feet.

I left a few silver marks on the bar for Samon to bring me another heel of bread, which I consumed in order to regain my full strength. Once my second snack was in my system, the music continued, with tunes like “Another Round” and “Twirling Towards Freedom” coming more and more easily to me. Men and Yordles danced together, and one of the small folk, an older fellow with pale brown fur, streaked with gray, came up and started playing a flute alongside me. A short break and some conversation revealed the fellow’s name was Beni, and we planned out the next few songs.

Laughter resounded as the Yordle and I played “No More Stones” and “The Litter and the Leaves”, and it was just as we were about to start a dancing tune called “Council” that the doors parted to allow the Sheriff of Piltover to enter. She was wearing the same clothes as before, though she carried herself differently. Caitlyn was much more relaxed, now, though she was still attentive to her surroundings. Her rifle was propped on her shoulder, and she smiled when she saw me. I leaned over to Beni and said, “Would you mind doing this next one alone?”

He stood on the stool next to me in order to see my reasoning and let out a single “Ah,” when he did. Looking back to me, he nodded and said in a high pitched voice, “Of course, my friend. Go and dance. I only ask that you return the favor when you get back!” We both shared a laugh, mine almost like a dog’s bark, his high pitched and almost squeaking at some points. With that, I left my lute on the bar and stepped out into the circle as Beni began to play.

Extending my hand towards Caitlyn, I began to dance. Not one of my finer skills, it’s true, but I enjoyed it, and gods take me if I cared what I looked like when I did it. With a smirk, Caitlyn unloaded her weapon and set it aside with the precision of someone who had done something similar a thousand times over, and stepped into the circle with me.

Once she took my hand, we began to dance a reel together as the music picked up, the old Yordle puffing on his flute fervently in order to keep the music going. The two of us locked arms and spun around, the dance floor being empty save for a summoner and the sheriff. As we spun about, my boots thumping while hers clicked on the wood floor, people cheered until the music finally came to a slowing stop. Both out of breath, we shared a smile, and I bowed to her.

Applause greeted us as she went to retrieve her gun, and I my lute. I thanked Beni and gestured to the dance floor, whereupon he hopped down from the stool and made his way to the middle of the circle. As I slung my lute across my body once more, Caitlyn sat on the stool beside me and said jokingly, “Are you really going to keep a lady waiting?”

“I promised that I’d let my friend there have a dance, and I like to keep my promises,” I responded with a smile before strumming on the lute once more. As I played “Marty’s Last Stand”, she made her way over to an empty, two-seat table and waited patiently for me to finish playing. When I did, I went over, took my hat off, and placed both my hat and my lute under the table. “My apologies for making you wait, Caitlyn.”

“Not at all,” she responded, taking her top hat off in turn to tuck under her seat, allowing the raven-black locks that she had hidden therein to come billowing out, “In fact, it was rather enjoyable.”

I gave a slight nod and said, “Thank you. You dance rather well.

“And you lie rather poorly,” she responded. Blushing must have occurred because she smirked at me in almost a teasing manner.

As Samon brought us both tea and lunch, we began talking, first about our work in the League, then about our previous lives. She was mildly put off when I confirmed her suspicions that I grew up in Bilgewater, yet it did not slow down the conversation any. I was doing well until she started asking me about magic.

“So how exactly did you make that wall of stone back there?” she said, taking a sip of tea and leaning in to listen.

“Well… um…” I had not prepared for this question, and seeing this beautiful champion staring at me with such intensity caused a bad childhood habit to reform. I began stammering.

“Well… I supp-p-pose that the b-b-b-best explaination for the m… m…” I had to force out the word “magic”, “would be t-that I had to use some of my own energy t-t-t-t… t-t-t-t… t-t-t-to create the wall that stopped the p-p-perpetrator.” After stumbling my way through that painful sentence, I took a few deep breaths to calm my nerves. Caitlyn was unfazed.

I continued to explain to her the basis of summoner magic, stammering only a few times more after that initial sentence, until I got to the point about the lack of nexus in Piltover, at which point I said, “I’m sorry, but is this topic boring you?” My interest was genuine, since she hadn’t said a word during my talk, rather than cynicism.

She leaned back almost as if in shock, “No, no, I’m sorry. I was just listening. I have a tendency to just stare when I listen... something I developed as an officer.” She gave a nervous chuckle at the end, almost sounding as though MY questions were making her nervous.

My response elicited a laugh that eased the conversation back into its previous casual state, “Well, you have no reason to be the officer here. You looked so stone-faced that Galio would have seemed human in comparison.”

The conversation turned light again, we continued to talk until a small alarm went off on Caitlyn’s gun. Reaching over, she deactivated it with a simple flick of her thumb and said, “I’m sorry, but my lunch hour is up. Please forgive me for leaving so hastily.”

I rose as she did, leaving money for Samon and a tip for our waitress on the table, “Your job is keeping people safe, and far be it from me to keep you from it.”

As we stepped outside, I turned to Caitlyn and said, “You know, this was rather nice. Would you like to meet for a cup of tea sometime later this week? I’ll be in town for a little while, at least.”

Leaning her weapon on her shoulder, the sheriff of Piltover smiled in response, “Perfect. There’s a tea house right across from Piltover Customs. Would you like to meet there two nights from now?”

“That would be fantastic,” I responded, “As long as the Ministry doesn’t drag me away, you can be sure I’ll be there.”

We each tipped our hats to one another and walked our separate ways, leaving her to keep the streets safe, and for me to prepare two nights in advance.


	4. Her name isn't "Destiny"

Folding of space, or teleportation to those less magically inclined, is a pain in the ass when there’s no nexus nearby. Not only is there massive amounts of concentration required for the task, but when you come out of the folded space, you are often vomiting from the tax the magic takes on your body. As such, when I teleport back to the Ministry of War, I always try to aim for my bathroom, that way the privy can take the brunt of my stomach’s punishment.

I suppose that fortune smiled upon me this day, seeing as how I fell out of the folded space and regurgitated the delicious lunch I had into the metal privy. Needless to say, it tasted so much better going down than it did coming back up, and chunks of bread, cheese, and vegetable matter in a vaguely tea-colored sauce spattered all over the bowl of the privy.

Resting my head against the metal rim, I took a few deep breaths before standing up, picking up the hat that had flown off my head during my violent heavings. I hung the hat on a peg in the bathroom before trudging over to the icebox that each summoner had in their room. Reaching in, I withdrew a glass bottle with red liquid in it, and removed the stopper, taking a sip. The potion’s energy surged through me, and I felt revitalized with each second that passed. Opening the cupboard next to the icebox, I withdrew a few strips of dried meat and walked out of my room, down the hallway to Jakob’s room.

I knocked on the door thrice, tearing off a piece of meat as I did, and walked in without an invitation. The Frejlordian summoner sat there, his hands hovering over a model of Summoner’s Rift, see-through versions of champions running to and fro. Jakob zoomed in on Olaf, whom I assumed he was working with, and twitched a few fingers on his right hand, sending the barbarian into the jungle to slay the Ancient Golem.

As he worked, I waited silently, and he paid me no mind. Jakob, more than anyone else in our circle, had a tendency to become absorbed in the match, blocking out all else. He would know you were there, but not acknowledge you until the match was over, and the outcome would often predict how well he treated you after coming out of his reverie.

However, his victory was not an accurate prediction of how he greeted me after he guided Olaf to taking down enemy champions multiple times, tearing down two turrets, and ending the enemy nexus himself. The match done, he turned in his seat, stared me straight in the eye and said, “You are such a dick.”

I managed to hold back two sputters before I released a laugh that Stephen, who lived right across the way from Jakob, obviously heard, for he joined in with me. He came out of his room wearing a tied-shut robe and slippers, his face red with laughter, adjusting his spectacles because they would have fallen off his face otherwise. As we laughed, Jakob turned red with anger, “It’s not funny!” he said. “Do you have any idea how scaly her skin is?”

We both stared at him for a brief second of silence before our laughter continued.

When we had both had our fill of mirth, we calmed down and I said to Jakob, “A deal’s a deal, man. I got a date with Caitlyn. Two, no less, since she agreed to meet me a couple of days hence. Now for your end of the bargain. You have to kiss Cassiopeia, or have your honor be forever tarnished.”  
His glare could have cut steel, yet I stood there and bore it until he turned back to the model of Summoner’s Rift, his face set in a scowl, “Fine. I’ll do it, and you all can watch.”

Stephen and I bumped knuckles before leaving Jakob to stew. As we made our way out to the common room, we ran into John and Tay, who were talking about their most recent practice match, and each bumped knuckles with me as we walked past. When we got to the common room, Stephen and I each took a seat. “So you have another date with her, huh?” he asked, removing a flask from his robe’s pocket.

After taking a swig, he offered me some, which I accepted. A mouthful revealed it was bright in flavor and strong in content. Obviously Demacian. Swallowing, I passed the flask back to Stephen, replying, “Yeah. She said that there’s a little tea house across from Piltover Customs that she’ll met me at two nights from now.”

Another gulp before passing it back, which I refused. “So I heard,” he said, taking a third and final swig before replacing the flask in his pocket, “What’s your plan, then?”

“You know me. I never have a plan. I don’t even know which champion I’m going to work with when we get to champion selection.”

“Jax,” Stephen said simply, his gaze unwavering from my eyes.

“Doubtful, but I’ll take it under consideration. Anyway, I just think I’m going to play the second date by ear. I’m even going to walk her home this time.”

“Smart choice,” my friend said, “though I would recommend that you go in with an idea of what you’re going to do for your next date, if she’s willing.”

I nodded and stood from the table, stretching and returning to my room. I was not in the mood to step onto the Fields of Justice today, so I simply sat down and began to read a treatise on the Kumungu Jungle as written by a summoner that had paid visit to it two years ago.

Two days seemed to pass in the blink of an eye as I passed the time by reading and operating my pitiful skills on the battlefield. I did, however, take some time to pay a visit to my home town of Bilgewater, and fight a few matches in the boxing ring there. I won two out of three, losing only to a bear of a man whose speed I underestimated. The man left me with one cracked and two bruised ribs, and not even the potent healing potion in my icebox could remove all of the superficial contusions.

I woke up at almost noon the next day, the beatings I had taken causing me to sleep like the dead. Groaning, I rolled off my bed, which may as well have been filled with rocks, but it suited me just fine. A few stretches cracked all of the joints that needed it before I lumbered to the shower and turned on the hot water, standing in the spray for a little while to wake myself up. Once awake, I started, almost slipping, as a realization hit me.

I had a date with Caitlyn today.

“HOLY SHIT!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, thinking that not even five hours was enough time to get ready for a date with a champion of the League. Madness ensued as I ran to and fro in my room, pulling on three different pairs of trousers, trying on four shirts, and inspecting my various pairs of boots to see which would have the least number of holes in them.

Apparently, Lee heard, since he came a-knocking at my door asking “Is everything alright in there?”

Between metaphorically tearing out my hair and twisting the shirt I was currently wearing around so it was no longer backwards, I managed to shout back, “Of course not! Why would you think that everything was fine?!”

Thinking he didn’t need an invitation, the large Ionian entered my room, the top of his head almost brushing the doorframe. Looking around, he saw the assortment of clothes on the floor, and me with one arm in a fifth shirtsleeve, looking like Tryndamere on a very bad day.

Sighing and shaking his head, Lee simply strode across the room and slapped me right across the face. I stood there in utter shock, looking a little to my right before turning my head back to face him, rubbing my cheek.

“Feel better?” he asked.

“Much, thank you,” I replied, before he nodded in self satisfaction and left the room.

My composure regained, I went about my business, cleaning up the assortment of clothes strewn about the place and finally deciding on an outfit that would suit my purposes just fine. The end result was a pair of black trousers stuffed into black leather boots with silver filigree worked into it, and a blood red shirt similar to the one I wore when I first met Caitlyn, though of assuredly higher quality. Atop my head, I wore a round hat with a short brim over spiked hair, and I kept a small pouch of gold sewn into the lining of my pocket, my winnings from my fights hidden carefully enough that a pickpocket wouldn’t be able to steal it without my notice. Completing the ensemble was a black satin vest with silver buttons. If the place was more formal, I could close the vest across my chest, yet if it was slightly more casual, I could leave it unbuttoned as it was. Looking myself over once again, I decided that I was as good as I was going to get.

Finally, to ensure that nobody would bother me while I was out, I reached into a cabinet and withdrew two sets of five throwing knives and tucked them in my vest pockets. They were small enough that none could see, yet close enough on hand that I could get them easily. However, taking my lute in hand, I noticed that the dark brown and brass instrument would clash with my outfit. This problem was easily solved, though, as I wove a minor illusion to change the wood’s color to black and the brass to silver. Keeping the fine instrument in hand, I began my incantation.

My arrival in Piltover was less than gentle, as the unstable magic on the city-state’s end caused me to be forcibly ejected, landing me flat on my face in an alleyway. As I got up, my bruised ribs pained me, causing me to wince. “Well,” I said to nobody in particular, “at least I’m getting all the bad stuff out of the way early.”

Pushing through the pain, I rose once again, walking to the end of the alley. Nobody paid any mind to me as I emerged from the darkness and made my way down the street. My emergence from the portal was fortunate, because as I walked, I saw the sign for Piltover Customs in the darkness, and the light coming from the tea house across the way.

Entering the tea house, I noted how relaxed of an environment it was, though the general dress code was similar to what I wore. Giving an inward sigh of relief that I had not overdressed, I approached the seating host.

“Just one?” he said, a short and slender man with an accent I couldn’t place, though I believed it to be Demacian.

“Two, please,” I said, holding up fingers to emphasize my point, and he nodded, “Right this way, please,” he said, taking me to a two-person booth with an oil lamp on the table. I seated myself as he gestured, setting my lute on the floor underneath my seat so it wouldn’t get damaged during the course of the evening.

I waited patiently, waving away the waiter that brought by menus, saying that I would prefer if they were presented when the rest of my party got here. Not ten minutes later, she arrived.

Caitlyn looked resplendent in a sleeveless dress of purple with white embroidery, her hair unbound, with an amethyst on a silver chain around her neck. I stood as she entered the tea house and waited for her to come towards me and be seated before I sat down again.

A five second silence ensued as I just tried to take in who was sitting across from me, inciting a chuckle from the champion. It was only then that I realized that my mouth was hanging open, a situation which I rectified with a clack of teeth. “You look gorgeous,” I finally managed to force out, those three words doing their best to sum up all the thoughts rushing through my mind. She smiled at me and said “Thank you very much, Jack. You look rather handsome yourself,” another bad habit kicked in as she gave me the compliment: I began twiddling my thumbs.

Noting this, she said, “Am I making you nervous?” cocking an eyebrow as she spoke.

Shocked, I stopped the motion of my thumbs, though I still kept my hands together on the table. “My apologies, Caitlyn,” I said, my voice regaining composure as my hands did. The eyebrow remained arched in its incredulous gaze, so I began to explain myself, “You see, it’s just that I consider myself lucky. There are a bunch of people, civilians and summoners alike that would kill to be where I am right now.”

Laughter lilted out from her mouth as she threw her head back, “I knew I was popular,” she said through the dying vestiges of her mirth, “but I doubted that such was the case.” She and I laughed together again as the server came by with two menus. He stood there while we examined it and we each ordered our tea. She had a Noxian blend, strong and dark, while I preferred a lighter taste from Ionia.

Our tea was brought, a small kettle for each of us, and we sipped quietly before continuing our conversation. We talked about more work on and off the Fields of Justice, her work in Piltover, and my upcoming duties training the newest batch of summoner recruits.

“So how are you going to train them?”she asked me, holding her ceramic cup in one hand, sipping from it gingerly.

“When I first joined the Ministry of War, I learned how to summon from a former drill sergeant from Demacia. I’m going to use his techniques along with some that I learned while working on the ships in Bilgewater.”

“Like?” she replied expectantly, moving her cup to just under her mouth, which was slowly curling into a smirk.

“Well, I’m going to use a rather unique introduction,” I said, clearing my throat so I could speak more clearly, “’Alright, maggots. Spicy Jack’s going to teach you the pecking order. It goes you, the dirt, the worms IN the dirt, Spicy Jack’s stool, the High Councilor, then Spicy Jack. Any questions?’”

Caitlyn’s expression was of utter shock, to which I responded by bursting out laughing. “What are you laughing about?!” she almost shouted, “That’s utterly barbaric! Totally uncivilized! I think less of you that you would even consider such a thing,” at that last statement, my eyes widened, and I held up my hands in a form of surrender.

“No, no,” I told her, explaining my intentions, “After that little monologue, I would laugh it off, much as I did just now, and offer a formal introduction. I’m a nice teacher, much nicer than the people I sailed under in my hometown.”

Her glare could have curdled milk, yet it served as a warning. I would have to watch my dark humor for the remainder of the evening. As the night progressed, however, as our idle conversation continued, we eventually returned to that same state of relaxed conversation as before, incurring laughter as the evening went along. Even when we had both finished our tea, we still stayed in that booth and talked.

Finally, I asked for the check, and our server brought it, setting it on the edge of the table. We both reached for it, yet her reflexes were quicker, snatching the piece of paper away from the tips of my fingers. “Come on!” I shouted at her, making a gesture of exasperation as I did, “The gentleman always pays for the first date.”

The words had escaped my mouth before I even realized what happened. Giving me a wry look, she spoke, “I suppose this is a date, Jack,” and passed me the paper. I counted out the money for the check and tip from the hidden pouch sewn into my trousers, containing a smile with some difficulty as I felt my heartbeat grow faster.

She considers it a date! She really believes it to be a date! I thought to myself, my joy running rampant through my thoughts.

With this, we both stood and left, me donning my hat and taking my lute before we left. I let her leave first, and walked out behind her. “May I walk you home, Caitlyn?” I said to her, offering my arm in a chivalric gesture.

Looking up to meet my gaze, she responded “Of course, I would have to ask to pay you back for tea if you didn’t,” and slid her arm through mine. With that, she led the way back to where she lived, and this time I couldn’t contain my grin.


	5. Knives in the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hitmen get hit

I walked with Caitlyn through the dark streets of Piltover, laughing, my arm linked with hers. We shared jokes, discovering that we had very similar senses of humor, and talked about our favorite books. She preferred historical texts, some dating back to the Rune Wars, while I preferred fluffy romance novels. She thought my choice in novels amusing, though she hid it well. Needless to say, I was kind of asking for it.

As we walked along, something seemed… off. As I looked over to the sheriff, I knew she felt it too. When I opened my mouth to ask her what she noticed, she cut me off quietly, “Just keep walking. -Someone’s watching us. I can feel it.”

Turning my head to face forward once again, I did continue, my right hand, the arm not linked with Caitlyn’s, flexing in case I needed to grab the throwing knives hidden in my vest. We walked in silence, and my eyes took in where we were.

The streets were dark, no light coming from the shops on either side. Even the shops seemed run down, and I realized we were in a somewhat seedy portion of Piltover, as strange as that may seem for the City of Progress. I adjusted my hat, lowering it on my brow before I heard a shot ping off the stone wall behind us.

Caitlyn was quicker, slipping her arm out of mine in order to reach down her bodice and remove what was easily the largest hextech revolver I ever saw. The whole gun was about as long as my forearm, and she had simply pulled it out of nowhere. Shock was apparent on my face as she pulled off two shots towards an alley where the shots had come from. WHAM! WHAM! The pistol went, the rounds bouncing off the walls of the alley. However, in her muzzle flash, I saw a figure holding a smaller revolver turn and bolt away.

Her police instincts took over, and she chased after the man, shouting “Stop where you are!” as she ran. I had no choice but to follow. Removing two of the knives from my vest, I ran after her, keeping my head low and my senses open. She pulled off one more shot, WHAM! before our assailant turned around a corner.

Swearing under her breath, she replaced the three bullets she had expended from a purse at her side that matched her purple dress, and snapped the gun back closed with a flick of her wrist. We both turned the corner, my being just a few steps behind her, and I launched one of my knives down the alleyway.

End over end the silver steel glinted before it disappeared into the silhouette of the running man, eliciting a cry of pain from him. Spinning around, he threw off two more barking shots before stumbling and continuing his escape. Caitlyn began lining up a shot as he turned another corner, causing her to let out a grunt of exasperation, continuing her pursuit. I replaced the knife I had thrown with another from the vest, leaving me with seven still in their sheathes. As we turned the corner, we saw the man stumbling away, leaving a rather obvious trail of blood, going between two more men with hextech weapons in their hands. We had to dive into cover when they opened fire.

Weapons firing, the two new assailants’ rounds bounced off of the wall behind us, one even taking a chunk out of the corner wall where I hid. Caitlyn kept her cool while I panicked, searching for some kind of way to help her out. One of them started reloading, the spent shell casings tinkling off the ground and poked out of her hiding spot, trying to pull a shot off. The other gunman, however, fired off three rounds when she did, one almost hitting her in the shoulder.

“Dammit!” she shouted, coming back into cover, “They aren’t going to even give us a chance,   
are they?”

“Doubtful,” was my response, until inspiration struck. “Give me a few seconds,” I told her before focusing inward to draw energy to perform a small feat of magic.

You see, hextech weapons are very complex, relying on both magic and technology to accomplish what they were meant to do. Needless to say, when one little thing goes wrong say, a destabilization in the magic powering the weapon, it no longer works.

Using the spell I had built up, I managed to destabilize the magic powering the weapons for a few seconds. Once that was done, I shouted to Caitlyn. “NOW!” and we both burst out of cover.

Click! Click! BOOM! Was all that you heard, clicks from their weapons, a thundering shot from Caitlyn’s, and silence as one of my thrown knives took the other man in the throat. They both fell to the ground, dead, and the sheriff rushed over to examine the bodies.

“Gang members. Sometimes they make attempts on my life in order to restore anarchy to the city. As you can see, they always fail, but this one was more organized than most.” Looking up, she spied the blood trail from the original attacker shining in the crescent moon’s light and said to me, “Come on! There’s still one more!” before running in pursuit, her gun at the ready. I yanked my knife from the man’s throat and ran after her, cleaning the blood off it with a handkerchief as I went.

We followed the trail through streets and alleys before we came to its end. It ended in a pool of blood with a knife glinting in it, but no body. “Dammit!” the sheriff shouted, kicking a nearby wall, “We almost had him. He must have patched himself up really quickly and gotten away.” I picked up my knife from the puddle of fresh blood and wiped it off, replacing it in its sheath. “Well, he won’t be getting far. And he’s going to be left with a nasty scar to dissuade them from trying again anytime soon,” I told her, adjusting my vest so it didn’t reveal the glint of metal underneath it.

With an exasperated sigh, she stuffed the revolver back into her bodice, hiding it as she had hidden it all night, which still baffled me. “How the hell did you hide that thing?!” I asked her, my confusion coming out in my voice, “It’s almost as big as Corki, and you just casually stuff it down your dress.” She gave me a wry look, not caring to hide the grimness in her eyes, “I hid it well, but it wasn’t necessarily comfortable.”

That being said, she straightened her dress, making a note to herself to clean the bodies up in the morning. Turning to me she asked, “Are you still going to walk me home, or are you as put off by this as everyone else?”

“I’ve seen death before,” I replied, “And I have caused it as well. I will still walk you home, just to make sure you get there safely.” At the last part, she gave a soft smile and offered her arm to me, which I gladly accepted.

We walked in silence, taking a shortcut through a few more alleys until we arrived at her home, a nice place with a purple roof and wooden walls. I went up the steps to her front door with her, and turned to face her, separating my arm from hers entirely.

“I’m sorry about tonight,” she said to me, lowering her gaze in a manner I didn’t think she was capable of, “If you’d still like to go out, I’ll make it up to you.”

“How about tea again, same day, same time, next week?” I asked.

She looked up at me, shock fading away into a smile. “Of course. That would be very nice. And I have to thank you. I would most likely be dead if it weren’t for your help.” With that, Caitlyn stood on her tiptoes and kissed me on the cheek, her lips brushing against my skin briefly before she lowered herself.

“Goodnight,” she said, unlocking the door and opening it.

“Goodnight,” I replied, turning to walk back down the stairs.

My incantation began as the door closed, and within seconds, I was heaving up that fine Demacian tea into the bowl of my privy once again.


	6. Heh. Snake lips.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember that bet? Time to cash in.

Two weeks had passed since that one eventful night between Caitlyn and I, and we had met for tea every week at the same place, the same time since then. On the home end, things were no less interesting, because Jakob had arranged his date with Cassiopeia.

When he had come home after asking her out, his face pale as a sheet, we already knew the result. “I’m going to die thanks to you,” he told me, “And when I do, I’m coming back and haunting you until you die, whereupon I will kick your ass so hard that you’ll think you’re still alive.”

“I take it she said no,” I said to him, and he shook his head.

“Are you kidding?! Since she got turned into a half-snake… thing, she’s been taking every date that’s been offered, and that includes summoners!”

We just looked at him, expressionless.

“I mean, I felt myself stiffening up just looking at her!”

We all started chuckling, including Stephen, who said “Well, she was once the most beautiful woman in all of Noxus. She must have retained some level of her charm.”

“Not like that, you idiot!” he shouted, causing us to laugh all the harder.

I was the one that calmed down next, “I know, I know, stone gaze thing. You’re going to have to deal with that for your entire date, which you are going to kiss her at the end of.”

Jakob’s glare could have curdled milk.

“You got yourself into this, now you’re going to have to pay the piper,” I told him, leaving his room.

When we saw him next, Jakob was dressed in the highest finery that we had ever seen him in. An ice blue shirt with white trousers and boots and a blue coat completed the ensemble. As he stepped into the common room, we all cheered.

“Looking good, man!

“Go get ‘em, tiger!”

And so on. The only person that wasn’t excited was the man on the spot. To show his gratitude to us, he only offered a single angry gesture of a certain finger. Afterwards, I rose to cast my enchantments, placing the invisible eye so we could see what was going on around him. That being done, rather than cast a small version of the viewing spell, I spread it across the entire wall, so any summoners that came by could get a grandstand view along with us.

Jakob would not have been amused if he saw it, deciding to leave as soon as my spells were done. We saw space fold around him, and he stepped out in front of the Du Couteau mansion in Noxus. While we watched, Lee ran to get drinks for all of us, coming back with a large bottle of liquor from Bandle City. Small people, powerful booze.

We started pouring our beverages as Cassiopeia slid out the front door to meet Jakob, and we all laughed as Katarina gave the summoner the universal “I’m watching you” gesture before closing the door and leaving the two to their date.

As they began walking, Tay proposed a game. “Every time Jakob gets nervous, we take a drink!” Naturally, his idea met much acclaim, and we celebrated our first drink not three minutes later when Cassiopeia linked her arm through his.

Five drinks later, we were all very tipsy, and Jakob was about halfway through his dinner. Cassiopeia did most of the talking, leaving Jakob silent and scared. She did not notice this, of course, being as absorbed within their date as she was. Eight more drinks later, Jakob was walking Cassiopeia back home. By this point, Tay, Lee and I had lost, heaving up the strong yordle alcohol that we had filled our bodies with. Only Wallace and Stephen were left, and they each took another drink as the half-snake began leaning on our comrade, wrapping both arms around just one of his and pulling him close.

We all cheered, save for Lee, who was passed out, and watched intently and drunkenly as they reached the door together.

“I had a wonderful time tonight,” Cassiopeia said, looking down, clasping her hands in front of her, “It’s been a while since I have gone out with someone.

“Thank you,” Jakob said, white as a sheet, “I really appreciate you going out with me. You must be incredibly busy as a League champion.”

She shook her head, the cobra-like hood rustling slightly, “Not really. People don’t pay as much attention to me as before this happened. So I say again, thank you,” with that, she reached up to place her hands on either side of his head, and her snake’s tail pushed her up so her face was level with his.

All of us watching at home tensed up, our fists balled in anticipation, our eyes wide as we waited for the end result.

It was like New Year’s Eve, and their kiss was like the clock striking midnight. We cheered, we laughed, and we gave applause as Jakob’s and Cassiopeia’s lips met.

The laughter, however was short lived. When their kiss broke, we noticed Jakob foaming at the mouth, his veins sticking out of his face as he fell over. We shouted a collective obscenity as he fell, and began freaking out as Cassiopeia did. She rushed inside the house and brought out Katarina, accompanied by a few of the Du Couteau house personnel, who brought Jakob inside for aid.

We were still screaming and running around drunkenly until, somehow, we all managed to crash into one another, knocking ourselves unconscious.

The next morning, we all woke up in a heap, one after the other, each suffering from the same headache which left our ears ringing with sensitivity, and our eyes pained by even the smallest light. Staggering to our feet, we saw Jakob standing at the edge of the common room, a smug grin on his face and a cloth, presumably filled with ice, pressed to his head.

“Looks like you guys had fun last night,” he said, causing all of us to wince with pain.

“As did you,” Lee responded, cradling his head between his hands.

“Only a…” I started to say before a groan of pain interrupted, followed by a vomitous belch. When I had regained control of my digestive system (temporarily), I finished, “Only a man that had as much fun as we did without the alcohol could have that self-satisfied look on his face.”

He laughed airily before coughing and clutching at his stomach, “Of course I did,” he said upon recovery, “She’s actually very sweet upon getting to know her. Naturally, the transformation she dealt with was rather humbling, so aside from my terror at the unknown and the venomous kiss, everything went great.”

“Good for you,” Tay said, covering his eyes to shield them from the light.

Laughing, Jakob said, “I think we should go out again,” as he turned away from us he finished with, “Maybe I’ll actually build a resistance to the poison.”


	7. One Warm thought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Debate on the law of the land causes a rough patch between Caitlyn and her summoner

Three months had passed since Jakob’s date with Cassiopeia, and Caitlyn and I were official. I suppose that we never really established it, since it happened over time as our weekly tea dates turned bi-weekly, then every other day in addition to more exotic things like renting one of Corki’s ROFL copters to fly around the city or going out dancing.

Naturally, our names were all over the tabloids, the relationship between us even knocking Bob Nashahago and Nidalee out of the spotlight temporarily. We didn’t care. After the first two months, we stopped caring. We had our own problems.

“The law is the utmost authority! It doesn’t really matter if it stands between you and what’s right, the law is the law!” she shouted at me during one of our meetings for tea. She had gotten off work early today, so light was still in the sky and the tea house was, fortunately, not very crowded.

“So you’re saying that in order to ensure the safety of a child, you wouldn’t steal money from an old rich man?” I shot back.

“Yes! How do you know that old rich man didn’t work hard for that money you stole?”

“I don’t, but he’s rich, therefore he has enough to spare a little for a child that will die without it.”

You could see the head creeping up Caitlyn’s face as she fumed, searching for the right words, “You’re such a…. such a…” she sputtered, trying to find the right line, “PIRATE!”

With that last word, she slammed her hands on the table and stormed out of the tea house, grabbing her gun from where it rested on the edge of our booth, and angrily tossing her hat back on her head. She had left like that several times, yet it obviously did not faze her. She always showed up for tea over and over again.

I sighed deeply, hanging my head. Our server for these past few months came by and looked at me, “Again, Jack? This is the third time in two weeks that she’s left like that.”

“I know, Al,” I told him, handing him the money for the tea as well as a generous tip, “I just need to find out a way to set everything right between us without forcing her to change…”

Al nodded, “Yeah, because the manager is getting kind of annoyed,” he said, and we both laughed. “But seriously,” he said to me, “Start looking for outside advice. I heard that Shyvana was running a little Q and A service for people in need. Maybe, if you’re lucky, she’ll answer your question.”

I grinned and handed him a purse of coins, “A little extra tip. Thanks, Al.”

With that, I left, needing to write a message.

Three hours I sat at my desk, a fountain pen and parchment being my only companions as I tried to write out a letter to the half-dragon. When those three hours were done, and after I had gone through about forty sheets of parchment, I sealed it and marked it for delivery to Demacia. As I sealed it with a dab of wax and my personal seal, I reminisced on the words.

_Lady Shyvana,_

_I have recently begun a relationship with a champion of the League. She and I have worked together quite well for some time, and we shared a cup of tea more than once in her native city-state. However, while we care for each other deeply, she and I have a major ideological difference._

_I grew up in Bilgewater, where pirates (and therefore, chaos) reign. I am a firm believer that chaos is necessary to keep Law and order in check. She, on the other hand, believes that the laws of the world are the highest authority and must be maintained with the utmost level of meticulousness (her words, not mine)._

_Naturally, you can see my predicament. I don't want her to change her ideology for me, since that belief is the foundation of who she is, yet I am having a hard time changing my philosophy to accommodate her as well. I suppose my question is: What route should I take? She is the one for me, I just know it._

_In all Sincerity,_

_Summoner Spicy Jack, the Bard of Bilgewater_

 

“Gods,” I said to myself, “I hope it works.”

Naturally, you can understand my delight when I received a reply. I pored over it, reading each and every one of her bits of advice, trying to find an answer. Eventually, I came to a decision; one that I would implement when we next met for tea.

Two days passed until we met again, Caitlyn waiting for me in the tea house before I even arrived. She wore her usual attire, the wait staff having grown much more lax with their dress code over time, and I wore an outfit similar to what I had the first day I had met her. Our conversation strayed away from politics and interpretation of the law, and more onto music and books, as it had several times before. Our tea finished and paid for, I began to walk her back home.

Fortunately, nobody bothered us, save for two members of the paparazzi trying to interview us both in the middle of the street. An obvious gesture of resting my hand on the pommel of my sword warded them off.

Finally, we reached her doorstep, the wooden stairs underfoot. I faced Caitlyn, her thick black tresses forming a frame around her face under the brim of her massive top hat, and began to speak.

“Caitlyn,” I told her, “I cannot change my views of the law. They have been built up over the past twenty three years, and I doubt I could alter them even if I wanted.” She narrowed her eyes at me, prepared to shout at me until her throat grew sore, yet I held up my hands in surrender to her as deterrent.

“Nor would I ask you to change the way you operate. It is your job to keep the peace in Piltover as much as it is mine to help keep the peace on Runeterra. We both want to do the right thing, even if we go about it in different ways. I care about you deeply, more so than anyone else I have ever met, and I don’t want us to be pulled apart by something as silly as politics. So, for our sake, I will keep my views quiet, that way they will cause you no further distress.”

My piece said, I took her hand and kissed the back of it gently and began to walk away. Or… I would have, had Caitlyn’s grip not turned to steel, ensuring that I can’t run away.

“You’re telling me,” she said, her voice low and threatening, “That you will keep silent, remove all source of argument, just because you know it pisses me off?”

I did not dare to face her, only replying, “Yes.”

In response, she pulled my hand with such strength unbefitting her figure, a fact that I could never get used to, and spun me around, springing into my arms to kiss me full on the mouth. The power, the passion she put into it shocked me. The furthest we had ever gone was a peck on the lips, and now her tongue was searching for mine.

I succumbed to her desires as she dragged me into her house.

The next morning, I finally arrived back at the ministry of war, finding my comrades doing a practice match in the common room. They all looked up and started asking questions.

“Where were you, man?”

“How did things go with Caitlyn?”

“Are those bite marks on your neck?”

I held up my hands to stifle the questions, then walked to the door of my room. I closed it behind me, but not before I gave them six words that answered all their questions:

“The fuzzy cuffs are leopard print.”


	8. Strange Bedfellows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The summoner cuts a deal with his superiors so he can be closer to his loved one.

I awoke before her, her skin warm against mine under the covers, the sweet scent of her hair filling my nose. Needless to say, it was a pleasant sensory array to wake up to. Taking care not to wake Caitlyn, I extricated my arm out from under her body, my movements causing her to shift in her sleep, letting out a small groan and some incoherent mumbling.

Standing, I stretched my bare body in the sunlight before pulling on my trousers and removing my long-stemmed wooden pipe from my pocket. Taking a bit of pipe weed from the pouch I usually wore on my belt, I proceeded to load the bowl and step outside into the cool Spring morning.

Caitlyn’s house came up over a ridge to look over the city, and her backyard offered a grandstand view. I had enjoyed this view every morning for almost two weeks, practically moving in with   
her since the question of “My place or yours?” was moot due to Ministry security.

I took a long draw on my pipe, savoring the flavor, before releasing the thick cloud into the still air. The bowl was light, and when I was done in fifteen minutes I tapped the ash out before returning inside. Caitlyn’s home was a nice one-story place, with a living room and fireplace adjacent to the kitchen, which I returned to, two bathrooms, a master bedroom, dining room, and guest room. As I walked back in from the yard, I entered the kitchen and was struck by a nice little idea.

Cracking my knuckles, I set to work, taking out a few pans and ingredients, chopping up vegetables and whisking eggs, setting thick slices of bacon to cook in a skillet. I finished cooking the bacon, setting the still-sizzling strips on a wooden plate, shortly followed by eggs scrambled with vegetables and cheese, and a couple of buttered slices of rye toast.

Holding the plate of food in one hand and a fork and napkin in the other, I went back into Caitlyn’s room, saying “Breakfast is served!” in a quiet voice, though filled with excitement.

Her response was a groan, followed by a feeble attempt to pull the covers over her head. For all her skill as a police officer, she was not much of a morning person, not until she had at least a cup of tea in her system. Chuckling, I left the food on the nightstand next to the groggy sheriff, then went back to put a kettle on for tea. Because the food was fresh off the stove when I gave it to her, it had only cooled slightly when I brought in a powerful black tea that Caitlyn could smell from across the room.

She sat up, her hair a tangled mess, her eyes half closed, holding the covers up to her chest with one hand while the other was held out expectantly. “Gimme,” she said, making a beckoning motion with the outstretched hand, demanding one of the two cups of tea I held.

“Not until you kiss the cook,” I said, holding the cup just out of her grasp. She made a lunge for it, and I pulled away, holding the tea further away from her, “ah, ah ah,” I scolded, “You’ve heard my terms.”

She responded with a look that only someone that just woke up could give before she leaned in to give me a peck on the cheek. I grinned and handed her a cup of tea, “Was that so hard?”

“Yes,” she responded, blowing away the steam rising off the cup and taking a sip. As that first drop of tea disappeared between her lips, you could see a change come over her, her posture straightening, her eyes opening a little wider, and a satisfied smile working its way across her face.

“Thank you, dear,” she said, kissing me again on the cheek, more tenderly this time, and much less curt. As always, I felt my insides turn to jelly as she used that term of endearment towards me, and took a sip of my own tea as she began eating. “So what’s the reason for making breakfast today?”

“I can’t be nice?” I asked her, sipping my tea once more, “Because if not, then I’ll just be a total wanker to you.” She chuckled around a mouthful of toast, swallowing before replying, “We both know you’re incapable of that. What’s the real reason?”

Oh, she was good. “I was wondering if you were going to accept the Lightshield Ball invitation.”

You see, about a week ago, Caitlyn received an invitation to the Lightshield Royal Family’s Annual Spring Celebration (or something similar; all high-class invitations look the same to me) for her, plus one. She had shelved it, deciding to set her priorities on more important matters.

She took a bite of bacon before looking me in the eye, “That depends. Will you move in with me?”

We had discussed this several times before, ending in a stalemate. She wanted me to move in with her, since I practically lived there already, and I couldn’t, due to the fact that the Ministry of War kind of required that I keep residence there. Security, once again. It was bad enough that I was already spending a lot of time with Caitlyn, but if I decided to formally move in with her, the Ministry would fire me.

“Cait, you know I can’t do that,” I said, “I’d wind up losing my job.” And she let out that exasperated sigh that I had heard so many times before, “Then I suppose we’re not going.” With that, she finished the last scraps of egg before grabbing a bathrobe from the bedpost, putting it on, and going into the kitchen.

I began to protest before she said, “You cooked, I’ll do the dishes,” cutting off all attempts at argument.

Seeing no point in staying any longer, I kissed Caitlyn on the cheek as she cleaned, then got dressed and left.

The teleportation, as always, left me vomiting, that strong black tea coming up in a surge of bile. Afterwards, I cleaned myself up, taking a shower and shaving everything save for the scruff of beard I liked to keep, before donning my formal summoner’s robes and making my way through the Ministry of War.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed into the housing offices for the Ministry and walked up to the man in charge. It wasn’t a very busy office since most of the summoners were happy with their living arrangements, yet this was the third time in a week I had come in here. The head of the department looked up at me beneath a hood and spoke in a Demacian accent.

“Back so soon, Jack? You were only here yesterday.”

“Have you processed my request?”

“Yes, yes, we have taken your paperwork under consideration,” he said, waving a gloved hand to silence me, “And the High Council is willing to allow your move.”

Elation lit my face, “Excellent. I’ll start packing.”

“Not so fast,” he said, reaching into his desk and removing a piece of paper. He placed my request before me, with a note at the bottom from the High Council. I read it and felt my face go pale.

“Are you sure that these are the only stipulations?”

“Positive. They didn’t say anything about any other concessions you would have to make.”

I pondered for a moment, then bowed my head, “I accept.”

Signing the agreement, I felt a large part of myself disappear, yet an even larger one emerge. I shook the department head’s hand, signed, and left to pack.

The next day, I knocked on Caitlyn’s door. It was her off day, so I knew she would be home, and she answered the door in a loose-fitting green shirt and brown trousers. She folded her arms and just looked at me as I stood on her porch, “Well?”

“Does your offer still stand?”

Her face softened immediately, “Of course. But you told me that they wouldn’t let you move on account of security.”

I shook my head, “They agreed, but under two conditions,” I said, watching her face turn into a mask of excitement and distress.

She gestured expectantly, her eyes demanding that I end the mystery.

“You see, the issue of security was that I was a summoner from Bilgewater, and if I lived in Piltover, the other summoners from my area would glean information out of me they could potentially use against your city-state.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that… in order to move in to Piltover as a summoner, I would have to become a citizen.”

“And you agreed?!” she exclaimed. She knew that my home in Bilgewater meant a great deal to me, but she meant more.

“I did. I’m now under your jurisdiction as sheriff, Caitlyn.”

She burst into laughter intermingled with tears and stepped out of her house to embrace me, burying her head into my chest. I gladly returned the hug, and she asked, “What’s else did they ask?”

I sighed, knowing this would hurt us both, “The High Council said that, if we were to move in together, that I never summon you to the Fields of Justice again.”

She stopped, her whole body going still, “And you agreed?”

I nodded slowly, my cheek brushing against her hair, “Only because I would rather have you in my life than work with me on the Field.”

Her arms relaxed and she took a step back, her hands still on the front of my shirt, “I can’t. Believe. You did that,” She told me, her delicate-looking hands clenching into fists, grabbing handfuls of my linen shirt.

“I’m sorr-“ I started to say until she cut my off by pulling me into her, her mouth pressing against mine.

When our kiss finally broke, she told me, “You will be rewarded for your sacrifice, summoner, but only if you have moved in within the week.”

I was done in three days.


	9. Having a Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caitlyn and her summoner attend the Lightshield Ball

It had been less than a week since Caitlyn and I had moved in together, and everything was running smoothly. Tonight, we made ready to travel to Demacia for the Lightshield Royal Family Ball. Needless to say, we were going as formal as we possibly could.

“Thanks, Jack. That’s just tight enough,” Caitlyn told me as I finished tying off the laces on the corset she would be wearing. I was not one to complain about her dressing style, though I had heard tell of a Noxian noblewoman who wore corsets so tightly that it rearranged her internal organs, but she did not need to wear one in my opinion.

“I know what you’re thinking,” She said, jolting me out of my reverie.

“Which is?” I responded.

“You think I’m dressing in a corset so I can impress someone,” she said.

I nodded slowly, and she knew it even though her back was turned to me. Turning around, she set her hands on my shoulders lightly, “Jack, you know that the only one that I need to impress is you. Why are you so insecure?”

I shrugged, “I just don’t know,” I told her, “I suppose I’m worried about all the charming Demacian noblemen sweeping you off your feet.”

“You should know better,” she said, irritation coming through in her voice, “If I was going to go chasing after some other men, then we wouldn’t be standing here right now.”

“I’m sorry. I just haven’t been to something like this in a long time. Last event I went to where I had to dress so formally was a Summoner’s Tribunal for a judgment. And then, I didn’t have to dance.”

Caitlyn pulled my face down to kiss me on the cheek, “Well, if it’s any consolation, I trust you not to run off with some other lady tonight. However, if Lux or Shyvana or some other lady asks you to dance with her, you go on ahead,” she laughed, “Because you know that I would do the same.”

That put my mind at rest quite a bit, and I kissed those full lips of hers briefly, “Then we’re even. Let’s make a game of this, shall we?”

Caitlyn removed her hands from my shoulders and placed them on her hips, cocking an eyebrow at me as she did, “Oh?”

“Let’s see who can get the most dances tonight. Just for fun.”

“What do I get if I win?” she asked, a slow smile coming across her face.

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” I told her, readying my outfit for the evening.

Caitlyn and I had a kind of matching color scheme. I had set aside quite a bit of money from working with the Ministry in order to purchase my outfit, and she got hers at a solid discount from a local tailor. I wore a shirt of a fabric I couldn’t remember the name of, smooth as silk and seeming to catch the light and shimmer as it moved. The shirt was dyed deep purple and matched the black vest and trousers I wore. The pants had a gold satin stripe down each leg and flared out over black boots, while the vest was of the same material as the pants and had gold embroidery on it, curling lines that twisted and turned to create an intricately beautiful pattern. Atop my head, I wore a wide brimmed black hat, the band and lining the same gold satin as the stripe on my trousers.

Caitlyn, however, wore something that would put even the most beautiful princesses to shame. Her corset was similar to my vest in that it was black with gold embroidery, yet gave enough cleavage to draw stares, yet not as much to cause others to think she was a hussy. Her floor-length gown ended just under her shoulders, the purple velvet a lighter shade than my shirt. A golden pendant in the shape of a gear and black pumps with golden buckles completed the outfit, her long black hair spilling down her back almost to her waist.

When we were both fully dressed, I finally saw the ensemble complete, and I could feel my jaw drop. “You look… I don’t have the words to describe it,” I told her after she laughed at the shocked expression on my face. “And you look rather handsome,” She told me, handing me my trusty lute. “I get the feeling that you’ll be needing this tonight.”

I narrowed my gaze at her, “What did you do?”

She smirked, “When I sent my reply to the letter, I told her that I’d be bringing a bard with me.”

“Are you serious?” I said, my voice cracking with excitement, “You do realize that certain champions are going to be there, particularly one that has a talent in music.”

She nodded. “I think they’re going to ask you two to play together.”

I could barely contain my joy, grabbing Caitlyn in a huge hug, almost crushing her in my happiness. She knew how much I idolized Sona, and that playing a duet with her would be the honor of any musician. “If such does come to pass,” I told her, “I will owe you a great deal.”

“I know,” she said, winking, “Now, are you ready to leave?”

I slung the lute across my back cracked my knuckles, a nervous habit of mine. “I am now,” I told her before beginning the incantation to transport us from Piltover to Demacia.  
Space folded around us, the instability of the magic on both ends causing a greater drain on my constitution and concentration, yet we came out in front of a building not too far from the Demacian Royal Palace. I held back the urge to throw up in the middle of the street and instead took a shuddering breath, straightening my back and removing a vial of red liquid from my vest pocket.

Caitlyn watched me concernedly as I downed the healing potion, breathing more easily as the healing energies washed through me. When the potion had done its work, I offered my arm to Caitlyn, “Shall we?” I said, and she replied “We shall,” hooking her arm through mine as she did so.

The Lightshield Palace was not too far away, the walk to the front gates only taking a few minutes. She presented the invitation to the guard at the door, though he would have let us pass due to sheer recognition of Caitlyn. The doors to the palace swung open for us, and a butler awaited to announce us. Caitlyn handed the man the invitation and asked my name. I told him and he turned around to call out, “Caitlyn, the Sheriff of Piltover and her escort, Summoner Spicy Jack, the Bard of Piltover.”

We walked in to a hundred pairs of eyes watching us, and I felt my heart seize up, skipping a beat before pounding like a drum. We entered and began to mingle among the people already there. Even upon entering, I could feel the power of some of the people in the room. Garen towered over the man he was talking with, and Lux’s bubbly personality matched the glow that followed her through the room. Shortly after we began to mingle, talking with a Demacian lord about the current state of Piltover, we heard the butler call out once again.

“King Tryndamere and Queen Ashe of Frejlord,” He announced, and the two champions walked down the stairs, clad regally as they did so, the barbarian’s thick braid coming halfway down his back while the archer’s silver-white hair flowed like icy water as she moved.

I leaned over to Caitlyn and said, “Big names already, and most of them aren’t even here yet.”

“Fashionably late,” She said.

Over the next hour, more and more guests began to show up.

“Heimerdinger of Bandle City, the Revered Inventor.”

“Corki of Bandle City, Captain of the Screaming Yipsnakes.”

“Prince Jarvan Lightshield the Fourth and Lady Shyvana.”

“Sona, the Maven of the Strings.”

My ears perked up at that last one, and Caitlyn chuckled as she noticed. The musician seemed to float across the ground, the etwahl floating in front of her through some kind of magic, her flowing hair complimenting her blue and white gown. Her fingers graced the strings by way of communication as she floated through the room, the music carrying only as far as she wanted it to.

As she drifted out of view, I turned back to our current conversation partner and continued talking until the rest of the guests arrived and the heavy wooden doors closed almost silently. It was shortly thereafter that the dancing began, the musicians hired by the Demacians playing their tune for us to dance to.

Naturally, Caitlyn and I shared the first dance, one hand in hers, the other just where the swell of her hip began, as we shared a waltz. We left as Twisted Fate and Irelia dominated the dance floor with a tango. Not surprisingly, Evelynn wasn’t there to dance with the Card Master, but the Ionian champion kept up with him just fine.

The evening pressed on, and Caitlyn danced with Xin Zhao, Jarvan III and IV, Garen, and many more. I kept up with her just fine, dancing with Shyvana, Lux, Irelia, and even Karma at one point. All was going excellently when King Jarvan III stood before the collected people.

“Lords and Ladies and Champions of the League,” he said, his voice carrying easily throughout the ballroom, “We have a couple of very special guests, especially considering those gathered here tonight who wish to perform for us. One has already made her name known throughout Valoran with her stunning performances that tug at our deepest emotions. I present to you Sona, the Maven of the Strings!”

Applause resounded throughout the room and Caitlyn grinned and gave my arm a squeeze, and I felt my hearbeat speed up. “The other,” the Demacian king continued, “Is a summoner from the Ministry of War, having made his name in the city-state of Piltover as one of the finest musicians ever to live there. To join Sona in performance is Summoner Spicy Jack, the Bard of Piltover!” More applause greeted me as I joined Sona on the musicians’ stand. I slung the lute off my back and looked over to her, smiling nervously.

Her face was peaceful as she returned the smile, and we began.

She started with a few experimental notes, her fingers light on the etwahl as she played, then stopped as naturally as she started, awaiting my response. I returned with a few strummed chords and an arpeggio that ascended and fell across a major scale, weaving a little magic into the music as I played.

Murmurs rippled throughout the room, confusion that we weren’t playing any well-known songs, not even one of Sona’s famous arias. It didn’t matter to the two of us on the stage. This was something that could only occur between musicians, a duet of the truest kind that bards other than myself would talk of for years to come.  
Once I was finished with my response, she began to play, her fingers playing a ghostly song that brought forth peace, and I responded with an ode to joy. Sona followed with sad notes, and I played chords that would resemble cool anger in comparison to hers. We looked at each other once again, then shared a wider smile, knowing each other well enough to play seriously.

She nodded to me, and I began to play an upbeat song that I had used to incite dance in many a bar before, yet it seemed just in place in this royal hall with Sona providing background. Then, as suddenly as we had started, I switched to the harmony, letting the Maven of the Strings take the melody and change the nobles’ emotions as she would.

Back and forth we played, she more skilled than I, but only just. We played songs that incited visions of valor and honor, justice and peace, glory that caused even Garen’s jaw to drop in shock. On and on we went, weaving a duet just for Demacia, a song that summed up the people –warriors, nobles, and common folk alike- in the way that only two people like us could.

A decrescendo followed, our music fading into quiet as we both played one last chord, mine rough in comparison to hers. Stunned silence echoed throughout the hall until one person began applauding, then another, until the entire ballroom was clapping until their hands turned red, some wiping tears from their eyes as they did so. I bowed to the crowd as Sona curtsied, and then we turned and I bowed to her once again, joining in the applause for the better musician.

The applause did not stop as we stepped off the stage together, and I met her in the crowd, saying “Thank you.” She nodded to me, and we began to mingle anew. As I walked past people congratulating me left and right, Caitlyn ran through the crowd, lifting up her skirts so she wouldn’t trip on them, she leaped into my arms, embracing me saying, “That was amazing! I’d say you were just about as good as Sona.”

I laughed, “You’re a filthy liar, but I’ll at least be truthful. That was… exhilarating. I hope she didn’t change the music to suit my emotions, because I’d rather just enjoy the performance as it was.”

She grinned and led me out to the dance floor once again, “The band is starting up again. How about we share one last dance?”

I downed a second healing potion I kept in my vest and went to the dance floor with her. So the night continued.


	10. Ballroom Blitz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The summoner has issue with the Steam Golem

The evening was going swimmingly, and more than a few latecomers had shown up after the performance by Sona and I. A few lords that had pressing business elsewhere, as well as one last champion.

“Blitzcrank, the Great Steam Golem.” The butler announced, as the metal man walked through the doors to the ballroom, his feet clanking against the tile floor, heat emanating from him as he walked. Few paid him any mind as he walked through the room, towering above most of the “fleshlings”, so absorbed were they in their various conversations.

I stood off to the side, talking with Xin Zhao, Garen, and one other nobleman, the nobleman commending me on my performance over and over again, trying to get into my good graces. Little did he realize my position in the Ministry was not that high, and buttering me up would get me nowhere.

“My goodness,” he said, “I think that performance will be sung about for years to come.” He was a small man, slender, though he carried an aura of strength about him. Unfortunately, that aura was overwhelmed by the Seneschal and the tall man on either side of him.

“As you have stated, yes,” I said, getting quite annoyed by the man’s constant fawning, annoyance that Garen and Xin were beginning to share, though they showed it less obviously. However, at this point, he finally took the hint.

“Ah, well, yes… I think I’ll go and get myself some more wine. You gentlemen have a good day.”

As he walked off, I had an inward sigh of relief, “Thank goodness, I thought he would never stop about the performance.”

Garen let out a laugh. He had a few cups of wine to drink, and it was showing, “Well, you did perform admirably. I suppose that congratulations were in order.”

“The congratulations were in order a half hour ago,” Xin said, being far more sober than the Might of Demacia, “I share Jack’s sentiment that it became somewhat of a nuisance after a while.”

I nodded soberly, looking across the room to see Caitlyn, Luxanna, and Shyvana all standing together much as we were. “What do you think they’re talking about?” I asked the two champions.

“I suppose that it would be much the same as what we are,” Garen replied, “Honor, glory, and justice!”

I raised an eyebrow at the large Demacian. Dear me, I thought, He’s even more righteous when he’s been drinking.  
Xin was by far more reasonable in his thinking, “They are most likely talking about more effeminate topics. Topics that I’d rather not think about, mind you.”

I nodded slowly once again as I heard familiar clanking steps approaching where we stood.

“GREETINGS, CHAMPIONS,” Blitzcrank said, followed by “GREETINGS, UNKOWN HUMAN.”

I bowed to the golem, as did Xin. Garen gave him a drunken salute, his cheeks red as cherries.

“I KNOW THE NAMES OF THE TWO CHAMPIONS YOU STAND WITH, HUMAN, YET YOURS ESCAPES ME,” he said, his voice loud in comparison to ours, though many others paid him no mind.

“I am Spicy Jack,” I told him, feeling small in the presence of these three great individuals, though I stood my ground when he spoke again.

“YOUR NAME AND APPEARANCE ARE FAMILIAR TO ME. YOU HAVE USED THE BLITZCRANK FLESHLING COMPATIBILITY SERVICE.”

“That I have,” I was mildly ashamed to admit it, though he would most likely continue announcing my lie if I had told it.

“YOU REGISTERED AS A MATCH WITH ANOTHER FEMALE SUMMONER, THOUGH MY RECORDS INDICATE YOU TWO NEVER COPULATED.”

I felt heat rising up my neck in the form of a blush as he said that. He may be on his way to human patterns of thought, but he still had a great deal to learn about tact. “We met, we dated, we just didn’t work out. She thought I was annoying.”

“IT IS A SHAME,” he said, his voice lowering to a rumble that caused me to grind my teeth, “YET SOURCES NOW SHOW THAT YOU ARE CURRENTLY IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH CAITLYN, THE SHERIFF OF PILTOVER.”

“Yes, we are together,” I told him, not afraid to show a little pride at the prospect, “What of it?”

“MY RECORDS SHOW THAT YOU TWO ONLY HAVE 36.14508 PERCENT COMPATIBILITY,” Blitzcrank said, “IT IS ODD THAT YOU TWO HAVE BEEN TOGETHER THIS LONG.”

Rage flickered across my face, “Blitzcrank, I would like to note that compatibility is not everything when it comes to humans.”

“THOUGH THE MATHEMATICS ARE DETERMINATE.”

“Be that as it may, we are very happy together,” I told him, trying to explain my thoughts on his level.

“DOES NOT COMPUTE. BLITZCRANK’S FLESHLING COMPATIBILITY SERVICE HAS NOT BEEN SO WRONG BEFORE.”

“Things change,” I said with a shrug.

“GIVEN THE CURRENT MATHEMATICS, I ESTIMATE THAT YOUR RELATIONSHIP WILL LAST LESS THAN THREE MONTHS MORE.”

I looked up at the golem, my emotions darkening, pooling magical energy as I spoke, “And what makes you say that?”

“COMPATIBILITY, YOUR CURRENT CONSTITUTION, HER SKILLS. YOU TWO ARE ONLY MINIMALLY COMPATIBLE, AND THEREFORE I ESTIMATE THAT YOU WILL NOT BE TOGETHER FOR MUCH LONGER.”

“Blitzcrank, do you know what I am?”

“YOU HAVE NOT REVEALED ANYTHING TO ME TO INDICATE THAT YOU ARE ANYTHING BUT HUMAN.”

I rolled up my sleeve to show my summoner’s tattoo, which had changed when my allegiance changed to Piltover. “I am Summoner Spicy Jack, the Bard of Piltover. Does that change the mathematics any?”

Blitzcrank was silent for a moment, computing apparently, “THIS NEW INFORMATION HAS ALTERED THE COMPATIBILITY PERCENTAGE TO 45.40592. I STILL HOLD LITTLE FAITH IN YOUR RELATIONSHIP.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, smirking, and he tilted his head to the right in confusion.

“YOUR FLESHLING HUMOR ESCAPES ME. DO YOU FIND SOMETHING AMUSING?”

“The numbers sometimes lie, Blitz. I suppose that’s all that can be said,” as I finished my sentence, I looked over to where Caitlyn, Luxanna, and Shyvana stood, now joined by Sona. The sheriff noticed and waved with a smile, causing Lux to giggle and Sona to do something similar in a silent manner.

Blitzcrank apparently noticed too, “I WILL HAVE TO UPDATE THE COMPATIBILITY SERVICE TO ALLOW ROOM FOR ERROR. THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME.”

As he walked off, I looked to Garen and Xin Zhao, “If you gentlemen will excuse me, I have some urgent business to attend to.”

Xin bowed, Garen saluted, and I went over to my beloved sheriff.

“What were you talking to him about?” Caitlyn asked me.

“Having no doubts,” I told her, pulling her close for a kiss.

When our lips finally separated, “What was that for?” she said, mildly shocked that I would display my affection so publicly.

“Because we are more compatible than many would think,” I said, pecking her on the cheek again before walking off to rejoin Garen and Xin.

As I left, I spared a weave of magic to act as a long distance ear. When I left, I heard Luxanna say, “What a guy,” when she thought I was out of earshot, followed by a light laugh.

“Yes,” Caitlyn responded, “Yes he is.”

I dispelled my weave and let my heart flutter, my step with a little extra bounce in it for the remainder of the evening.


	11. An opportunity that most would pentakill for

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The summoner receives an offer he simply cannot refuse

It had been less than three days since the ball in Demacia when I received a letter in Caitlyn’s mailbox.

“Huh. First piece of mail as a resident of Piltover,” I told her, “I think this would qualify as some kind of momentous occasion.”

She chuckled at me, fully awake after a nice cup of tea, “I agree. This momentous occasion shall be celebrated by you doing the dishes.”

“God dammit, not again,” I said through a chuckle as I examined the seal on the letter. The blue wax seemed to shimmer slightly in the morning sunlight and was imprinted with a musical note.

“I think it’s fan mail, Caitlyn,” I said, breaking the seal as I walked inside.

“Then it’s best advised to throw it away. I don’t even read most of my fan mail,” She said from the bedroom, most likely getting ready to take a shower.

“But I’ve never had fan mail before… This is a nice thing for me,” I told her, removing the note from the envelope. I unfolded it and read flowing script that seemed almost like sheet music in a way, and I knew exactly who had sent it.

Summoner Spicy Jack,

I was thrilled to have you perform with me at the Demacian Ball, and was genuinely impressed by your skill with the lute. I have discussed your abilities with a few colleagues of mine, and I was hoping you would be willing to perform with the group of us in Noxus on May 27th. There is a room already reserved for you at a boarding house near the stadium, where the rest of the group will be staying as well. I look forward to your response, and I hope that you will be able to demonstrate that you have equal skill on the stage as well as the Fields of Justice.

I didn’t even need to see that the signature read “Sona”.

As I finished, I called out to Caitlyn, “Um… honey, this is something a little bit more than fan mail,” I held the letter inside the room, taking care not to see if she was indecent or not. Besides, even if I had, there wasn’t anything that I hadn’t seen before.

She simply took the letter and began reading, leaving me to do the dishes. I had finished with two pots when she called out to me, “Jack, this is amazing!”

I remained silent, not knowing what to say. I scrubbed at a plate before setting it aside to dry, trying to be absorbed in my work.

“Jack?” She said, coming out of the bedroom wearing her usual outfit of a corset and skirt, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah…” I told her, “I’m fine. Just tired.”

She folded her arms and gave me that look that only women can give. “What are you not telling me?” She said, giving me those eyes that only a trained law enforcement official could, “I read people easily, and I know you like an open book. You’re hiding something.”

“Hiding? I’m not hiding anything,” I said, cleaning off a couple of forks.

“Bullshit,” she said, causing me to jolt. She rarely used language like that, though it had been happening more and more often since we had been together. “You don’t want to perform with them, do you?”

I sighed, “No, Cait, it’s not that. It’s just…” I gave a shrug, not knowing what to say.

“Just what?”

“I’ve been offered an opportunity that a lot of people would kill for. Imagine how it would be if Heimerdinger or Corki asked a low-level summoner like me to work with them building some newfangled device,” I told her, finishing the cleaning, “I just feel that, ever since I met you, my life has been making more and more turns for the better, and I don’t know how to deal with it.”

She walked across the wooden kitchen floor, her knee-high boots clicking against the material, placing a hand on each side of my head, “You’re being a fool, Jack,” she told me, “Your life has turned for the better not because you met me, but because you made it so.” She kissed me lightly on the cheek, “Do you really think that we would be here right now if I hadn’t deemed you worth my time when we first met?”

I reached a hand up to touch hers, shaking my head slowly, “I just don’t know how to deal with all the fame,” I told her, squeezing that hand, “I’m just not used to it.”

She kissed me again, her lips gracing mine this time, “Play it off as best as you can,” she said, a little chuckle coming through, “It’s how I do it.”

I grinned and embraced her, my arms sliding around her shoulders, “Thank you,” I told her before starting, “Wait… what day is it?”

“May 25th, why?”

“The concert is in two days,” I told her, “I have to send Sona a response as quickly as I can.” With that, I dashed off to get my pen and ink.

Once the letter was finished, I used a minor thaumaturgy spell in order to locate Sona, and a teleportation to send it right into her lap. I just hoped I didn’t inconvenience her.

That being done, I began to practice for hours on end while Caitlyn was at work, practice so extensive and tiring that she found me passed out when she returned after a long shift.

The next morning, I was awakened by the smell of bacon and eggs, and walked in the kitchen to see Caitlyn standing, fully dressed, cooking breakfast. I sneaked up behind her to give her a hug and kiss her on the cheek, eliciting a giggle, “You were sleeping like the dead last night,” She told me, “I shook you twice, and yet you only mumbled something about potatoes and kept on sleeping.”

I snickered as she told me that, “Well, would you expect any less from me?”

She looked up thoughtfully for a moment, “Nope,” before returning back to cooking. “By the way,” she told me, “I took today, tomorrow, and Friday off so we could go to Noxus for the concert.”

“Why Friday?” I asked.

“I heard that the band members like to hang around for a little while after each show. Maybe they would like you to join them.”

I nodded, knowingly conceding that she thought ahead a great deal more than I.

“So. Go and get your bags packed. Mine are already done.”

“How long was I asleep?!” I said, leaving to go and select my clothes for the next couple of days.

“It’s almost noon,” She said, and I hurried up.

We shared breakfast, then gathered up our luggage, and I enacted my teleportation spell.

We came out in Noxus, the lack of magical energy on both ends making me feel dizzy, though I did not throw up. Oddly enough, the past couple of months my constitution was getting better and better, meaning I could perform reasonable feats of magic without feeling ill.

The other end of folded space came out in front of the designated boarding house, though it was not so much a boarding house as a very high-class inn. The two of us walked through the heavy wooden doors, and approached the front desk, a suitcase in each hand. A well-dressed young lady stood behind the desk and looked up as we approached, “Checking in?” she said as if she had rehearsed it a thousand times before.

“Yes, thank you. Summoner Spicy Jack, the Bard of Piltover. I was told that a room would be here for us.”

She didn’t even have to look at the record book before nodding, “If you’ll follow me, please,” she said, walking towards a lift-like contraption that I had seen in similarly tall buildings before. The three of us stepped on the lift, and it began moving, taking us up to one of the highest floors of the building.

The young lady walked out of the lift, leading the way down a long hallway before stopping at a room reading “824”. “Sir, madam, this is your room. Your fellow performers are just down the hall in 825, 826, 827, and 828. However, I would not recommend stopping by 828, since Karthus likes his privacy.

With that, she walked off, pausing only to leave a key in my hand. The door opened smoothly, revealing a large room, thrice as large as my apartment in the Ministry of War. Even Caitlyn was impressed at the bed big enough for three, the built-in kitchen, and the bathroom with a tub so large that two could easily share it. Needless to say, I would have to run that idea by my partner.

We walked in and set our bags down, opening them so we could hang what we deemed necessary in the his-and-hers closets. However, as we were getting ourselves situated, a knock came at the door, too heavy to be human.

“Come in,” I said not too hesitantly, and the wooden portal swung open to reveal Mordekaiser, who had to stoop in order to enter the room.

“It’s good to have you with us,” He said, his voice rumbling and echoing through the armor, “It’s going to be interesting performing with someone that can keep up with Sona instrumentally.”

“She flatters me,” I said, “So what time is the performance tomorrow?”

“Just before midnight,” the Master of Metal replied, “Have you ever played with our type of instruments before?”

I shook my head. I had never played techmaturgical instruments before, mainly because I was afraid of making too much noise.

“Then I will loan you one of my axes for the show,” he said, leaving briefly before returning with… an axe. However, this axe was strung like a lute, and made little to no sound when I played it.

“No, no,” He said, “you have to attach it to one of these,” he proffered a cable about as thick as my thumb, hooked up to a small box with a speaker in it, and a plug on the other end.

Shrugging, I hefted the axe –gods the thing was heavy-, and put the plug into the most obvious hole on the axe. I played one note, and the sound could be either described as beautiful or terrifying. The note was clear, but sounded more… powerful, I suppose the word would be. I smiled as I played a few more notes, getting a feel for the instrument.

Mordekaiser nodded his approval, “You seem to be taking to it very well, though I think you’ll need a smaller instrument.”

“Not a problem,” I told him, casting a small spell that reduced the axe’s size by a third, making it far more easy for me to play. That being done, I began playing it as I would my lute, modifying the sound with the knobs and levers on the instrument to create a sound that even made the master of metal and disease seem impressed.

“Since you seem to be adapting so well, I’ll leave you two be,” He said, leaving the room to go do… Mordekaiser stuff, I suppose.

Once the door closed behind him, I locked it and went up behind Caitlyn, who was still hanging he clothes in the closet, snaking my arms around her waist and whispering in her ear, “I think that tub is big enough for two.”

I saw her smile out of the corner of my eye, “As long as you make the water hot,” she told me, and hung up her last outfit.


	12. Party on, Jack. Party on, Cait.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The summoner plays in a once-in-a-lifetime concert

The day of the concert, Caitlyn went out shopping, and I tried to fine-tune the axe that Mordekaiser gave me. It was a rather interesting instrument, currents of magic powering the various implements of the item, flow adjusted by the knobs and lever on the instrument itself as well as the speaker box that I had been given.

Once it was done, I walked down the hall, looking first at 828, then 827. Then I remembered that the young lady at the front desk said that Karthus liked his privacy before knocking on the latter door. The door creaked open, revealing a figure that, even stooped over, was almost as tall as I, and partially hid his face under a hood. Two seconds after the door opened, the smell hit me, and it was that of death.

I tried not to gag as he said, “Can I help you?” in a voice that seemed to rumble and churn as if it were an earthquake. I then realized I was looking at Yorick.

I know, you should heckle me for not knowing one of the champions of the League, but he is one of the least well known of the lot, seeing less time on the Fields of Justice than even Karma. However, here he stood, neither living nor dead, looking at me as if he were sizing me for a coffin.

“I’m Jack,” I said, offering a hand to him, “I’m supposed to be performing with you tonight.”

He looked at the hand, then back to me, then back to the hand, then back to me. Sadly, the hand was a part of me, so he simply said, “I know. The busty live one told us that you would be working with us tonight,” without shaking my hand.

I almost snickered as he described Sona as “the busty live one”, since that was something that a lot of people noticed about her, before saying, “I… see… I’ll leave you to whatever you were doing, then.”

“Thank you,” he said, closing the door and sealing away the dead man stench with him.

Mildly confused at the antisocial qualities of Yorick, I turned away, and heard a voice calling out, like an operatic singer’s, pulling at the very core of my being, wanting to wrench away my soul.

I had to fight against the voice as it called out to me, singing, and I could feel what I was coming up my throat and had to force my mouth closed in order to lock my soul away where he couldn’t get it.

Karthus, I realized as I ran out of earshot, taking a few deep breaths and looking down at my hands to see them turning from a pale ashen color back to their normal hue. As I breathed, I heard the music I had idolized a hundred times before wafting from the room across the hall from where Caitlyn and I strayed to the door and knocked politely.

It opened without a sound, seemingly pushed by a current of air, and I poked my head in. Sona waited there, her fingers slowly drawing across her etwahl, and took a break to make a beckoning motion to me, inviting me in.

I walked in and she played a few notes that caused the door to close behind me. Sona smiled and gestured to a chair across from her, and I sat down, trying to push the feeling of my soul coming up out of my body away.

Looking at her, I said, “Thank you for inviting me to play with you again.”

She simply nodded, smiling once more.

“But you realize it was totally unnecessary, right?”

Once again, a nod and a smile, this one much wider.

I sighed, “Please forgive me, but I don’t really know if I’ll be able to have a decent conversation with you if I can only ask you yes or no questions.”

She gave me an understanding look and idly played three chords on her etwahl.

“May I?” I asked, holding my hands out to her, “I think I can establish a thought link between us.”

She leaned in to my hands, and I began to speak in murmured tones, touching two fingers to her forehead, then to mine, back and forth until I was sure the spell was complete.

Can you hear me? I asked her in thought, hoping it worked.

Yes, I can hear you as clearly as day, she responded in ghostly tones, her mental voice as clear and pure as the music that she played.

Much better. So did you have any difficulty convincing the rest of the band to allow me onstage with you? I asked her

No, she responded with a shake of her head, Karthus and Yorick didn’t really care, and Mordekaiser was slightly interested, truth be told. Our drummer just doesn’t talk with the rest of us until it’s time to perform, though.

Who is the drummer for Pentakill anyway? You guys have had a few.

Yes, we have. We started trying to work with Akali, but she never showed up for practice because of her duties with the Kinkou, and Shaco kept on stabbing people in the audience with his double. We thought Heimerdinger would have been glad to work with us for a little while, but after two shows, he thought we were beneath him, and Olaf kept on breaking the drum sets.

I laughed aloud at that last bit, That does sound like Olaf indeed, I told her, But who do you have currently?

She grinned openly, Shen has proven to be perfectly able to balance his duties with the Kinkou, his actions in the League, and his performances with us equally, so I think we’re going to have him for a while.

I started in shock as she named the drummer. Shen?! But he seems so emotionless. All work and no play.

Sona shook her head, I’m afraid not. He’s the epitome of balance, managing to keep the whole of Valoran in check. He needed to get out and do something fun for a change in order to maintain the balance in his own life.

I chuckled at the prospect of Shen hammering away on drums with a couple of pieces of wood. It was going to be an interesting sight. “Well, I’m going to head out,” I said, standing up, “I need to get some sleep before tonight.

As you would, Sona said, smiling cordially, We don’t want you collapsing onstage.

“By the way, this thought link will break when I leave here, so you won’t have to deal with my stray thoughts for the rest of the evening.”

Good. Thank you.

However, as I walked towards the door, something flashed through my mind for the briefest instant, an image of Sona and I sharing a rather intimate kiss. I stopped, then continued, pushing the thought to the back of my mind. The thought was not mine, which made the prospect all the more distressing.

Closing the door behind me, I felt the link between Sona’s mind and my own dissipate before letting out a heavy breath, “This is going to be a long night,” I told myself before going to lay down for a little nap.

I woke up at about ten with the first sensation I knew being that of Caitlyn’s hair on the pillow next to me. I rose up, stretching before I took a quick shower and got dressed for the concert.

The outfit I wound up wearing was not what I was used to, but I decided to add a little bit of my own flair to make it a little more comfortable for me.

A while back, someone had made spectacles that were in the form of lenses you put directly on your eyes. Personally, I didn’t care for the concept, but I got a pair made anyway so I could see even without the spectacles I usually wore. I then spiked my hair up with a gelatinous substance, and slipped into a red cotton shirt under a black leather vest. Below the waist, I wore a wide black belt that had a heavy black metal buckle in the shape of a cog, which held up heavy trousers made of some black cotton-based material, and heavy boots tipped with shining steel on the outside.

I finished the outfit and turned to Caitlyn.

“I look ridiculous,” I told her, “These trousers are so damn tight, I’m having a hard time walking.”

As she looked me up and down, she chuckled, “Well, it could be worse. You could be standing up there half naked.”

“It would be an improvement,” I told her before picking up the axe and speaker, “Wish me luck.”

“Luck,” she said, leaning in to peck me on the lips before I departed.

I walked out to find Mordekaiser in heavily-painted armor, almost waiting for me. He carried his axe slung over one shoulder, and we began walking.

“Show starts in an hour,” he said, that metallic voice rumbling, “Are you ready?”

“As long as I don’t lose circulation in my legs, I’ll be fine.”

He gave a rasping cough-like sound which I assumed was a laugh.

As we arrived in the stadium, sneaking past a large group of fans in order to get backstage to set up, I heard people clamoring, including (I thought) Katarina and Cassiopiea Du Couteau. I shuddered, hoping that the former wouldn’t knife me if I gave a poor performance.

Our stealthy tactics successful –quite a feat for the Master of Metal- we arrived backstage and began setting up and tuning. As we prepared, a man about my height, though much thinner with thick black hair pulled back behind his head approached me.

“Hi. I’m Pentakill’s manager.”

“Hello. Thanks for having me today.”

“It’s my pleasure. The line is backed up to the streets out there, so you’re obviously good for business. Anyway, I just wanted to check to see if you knew the songs.”

“I do. No need to worry there.”

“And you know that you’ll be singing vocals on a few of them?”

“Nothing to worry about, as I said.”

“Great! Thanks,” And with that he left, leaving me kind of confused. However, as I watched, I realized that I was not the only one he spent like 4 or 5 seconds on. Mr. Manager was in a constant hurry, not surprisingly, considering as he was operating one of the most popular bands in the current music scene.

The curtains closed, and we soon heard people flowing into the massive amphitheatre and, as the clock approached midnight, the crowd began to chant.

Pen-ta-kill! Pen-ta-kill! Over and over again until a booming voice rang out.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, lovers of music, we have gathered some of the finest champions from all corners of Valoran and brought them here for your entertainment!” The curtains opened up, and revealed the empty stage. I started to walk out until Yorick, who stood behind me in a top hat and leather jerkin rested a hand on my shoulder and said, “Wait.”

“Coming here from a land unknown to feast on your disease as he plays his axe, we have Mordekaiser! Master of Metal!” Cheers erupted as the seven-foot tall armored man walked on stage and waved at the crowd, playing a quick arpeggio on his axe before standing still.

“And from the island of Ionia, a lady that everyone knows well enough to revere, the Maven of the Strings, SONA!” She seemed to glide out, wearing a leather corset that pushed her already exemplary cleavage up and closer together over a black and red skirt. As I looked at Sona, a drunken joke came to mind that my fellow summoners and I had shared a couple of times. One where the punchline was “BOOOOOOBIEEEEEES”. She wore her hair down, dyed dark, and made a hand symbol to the crowd that made them cheer even louder.

“On the three-string bass, the keeper of the dead from the Shadow Isles: The Grave Digger, Yorick!” He pushed past me politely and walked out, thrusting his hands up to the ceiling, three ghouls seeming to arise from the very ground around him to join as he stood.

“On vocals, the master of the Howling Marshes, the Deathsinger, Karthus!” He floated down from the ceiling to land right in front of the microphone, looking as nonchalant as a lich possibly could.

“On drums, the king of Bromacia, the dragonslayer, he who screams at Baron Nashor when drunk, OLAF!!!!” More cheers erupted as Olaf jumped down from the ceiling, the massive drumsticks in hand crashing onto the cymbals as he made his entrance.

“Finally, we have a special guest for you tonight. A summoner of the League of Legends, representing Piltover on the Fields of Justice, a man considered by many to be Sona’s equal in music: Spicy Jack, the Bard of Piltover!” I walked out, waving at the crowd as they cheered, my heart rate speeding up a little bit. In order to calm myself, I played something similar to what Mordekaiser had, twisting one of the knobs in order to distort the sound a little towards the end.

We all waited silently, until Karthus began to sing. His magic was not in it, and it did not hold the raspy tone it usually did on the Fields, but he sang a ghostly tune, his voice rising and falling in a choral scale until Mordekaiser and Sona joined in, followed by Shen, then Yorick and I. Our opener was an instrumental tune, which contained a lot of call and response between Sona, Mordekaiser, and I.

The next song began with me playing a nice rhythm, followed by Shen hammering away in a nice fill, then finally everyone else joining, Karthus singing, “Conversion Hextech version 7.0…” causing the crowd to cheer briefly before the song continued.

Two more songs passed until I got my first chance to sing, and I had to take a deep breath before I did. It started with a fast-paced beat by Olaf, then Mordekaiser and Yorick playing a standard rhythm, causing the crowd to clap in time. I started singing, “Whether in Noxia or no-o, or down in Demacian town a go-go, with the music selection and the mirror’s reflection I’m-a dancing with myself! Oh-oh-oh!”

Apparently this song was rather well known, as the crowd joined in the song at certain points, jumping up and down as the song went on, dancing to their heart’s content. I saw Katarina Du Couteau doing such a thing, as well as her sister Cassiopeia, who was doing something similar only as well as she could. Caitlyn also stood in the front row, bobbing her head in time and bouncing up and down whenever I sang or got a solo. After a few minutes, the song died down, and we began the next number.

When Karthus was done singing “Indestructible,” it was my turn to sing once again, and I started to sing “Feel Good Inc.” So the night went on. After a fifteen-song set, we all bowed and began to walk off the stage, until cheers of “Encore! Encore!” brought us back for two more. Satisfied, the crowd dissipated, leaving us to go backstage for some R&R.

Full Song List:  
Halo 2 Theme – Marty O’Donnell & Michael Salvatori  
Toxicity – System of a Down  
Through the Fire and the Flames – Dragonforce  
Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked – Cage the Elephant  
Dancing with Myself – Billy Idol (Spicy Jack Singing)  
Indestructible – Disturbed  
Feel Good Inc. – Gorillaz (Spicy Jack Singing)  
War Pigs – Black Sabbath  
Enter Sandman – Metallica  
Bad to the Bone – George Thurgood (Spicy Jack Singing)  
Tempted – Squeeze (Spicy Jack Singing)  
More than a Feeling – Rob Zombie  
Bat out of Hell – Meatloaf  
Rock you Like A Hurricane – Scorpions

Encore:  
Where the Streets have No Name – U2 (Spicy Jack singing)  
Roundabout – Yes


	13. A Leap of faith

I hate to admit it, but after I stepped off stage, the rest of the evening (and most of the day afterwards) was a blur. I seem to remember drinking with Gragas and Jax, outdoing the latter, and briefly getting into a drunken fistfight with Talon, no blades involved. I think I might have won, though my aching everything screamed otherwise.

I sat up, wincing as purple-splotched ribs creaked, and looked down at my shirtless chest, happy that the damage was a lot less than it could have been. It was only after the fact that I realized that I was somehow back in Piltover.

Rolling out of bed, groaning as I did so, I walked into the kitchen where the smells of cooking food wafted. Caitlyn stood in a bathrobe and apron, her raven-black hair shining in the noon sunlight, giggling as I snuck up behind her to give her a hug.

“What day is it?” I asked, my throat hoarse, and sounding worse than it was.

“Thursday. Why?”

I buried my face in the soft cotton of her bathrobe, groaning, “Four days? Four days since the concert?”

I felt her nod, “You were asleep for two. I was worried for a little while until you started snoring again, then I realized all was well.”

I glared at her (or, more accurately, her neck) from the bathrobe, “I don’t snore.”

“Yes you do,” she said, “Sometimes it gets so bad that I have to put wax in my ears.”

I groaned again, to which she sad, “But that’s only on occasion. Mostly, it’s just cute.”

“Four days…” I said, “And you made sure we got back safely in that time?”

I felt her nod, “It wasn’t difficult. Noxus has a few airships.”

As I held her from behind, I realized something… “Wait… it’s February, isn’t it?”

“Mhm. Why?”

“Three days from now, we will have known each other for a year.”

Her arms stopped moving, “You’re right… how could I have forgotten?”

“You are busy, dear. I would have forgotten were it not for the day of the week.”

She looked over to me from her cooking and kissed me on the temple, “You’re the best, Jack. I really mean that.”

I felt myself flushing, the sudden rush of blood to my face somehow causing the throbbing ache in my ribs to grow even more intense, “I could never live up to you, though,” I told her, turning to return her kiss on the cheek.

We laughed together, and I did my best to help her cook breakfast, though she insisted on doing most of the work. Thereafter, we sat outside and ate, the cool Fall breeze combining with the sunlight to make a wonderful meal for both of us. When we finished, I did the dishes, and Caitlyn got dressed and left for work, leaving me to contemplate something.

One year… One year it had been since I met the woman of my dreams, and we had been together for almost as long…

It blew my mind, and I vowed to do something special for the anniversary of our meeting.

Painfully, I showered, got dressed, and went out on the town, visiting a very special store for a very special item, going to a restaurant in order to place a reservation, and chartering an airship for a sky-high tour of the city. So many plans going at once, and I knew it would be amazing.

Three days passed, and the afternoon of our anniversary, I told her, “Dress formally, I have something special planned.”

“But I-“

“No buts, Caitlyn. I’ve got a great night lined up for us, but we can’t do it unless you get dressed!”

She gave me that look that she had given me a thousand times before, her eyes level, her hands on her hips, as if to say, “You are such a pain in my ass sometimes, but I know you’re worth it.” Sometimes, I didn’t think I was.

When we had both dressed, me wearing a similar outfit to that of our first date, though with a short red tie to match my vest this time, and Caitlyn wearing a floor-length, sleeveless purple dress, we linked arms and walked out for our night on the town.

The restaurant was one of the most popular in the city, offering delicious Ionian cuisine, including these nice little works of art composed of sticky rice, raw fish, and seaweed. Caitlyn considered it disgusting, enjoying the pan-fried noodles and vegetables she ordered, while I relished in devouring the works of art. I took the check after we had finished eating, including a bit of rice wine that Caitlyn enjoyed immensely, and paid. Afterwards, she tried to head back to the house, but I pulled her away, “Nope! We’re not done yet.”

Walking down to the pier, I saw the Valiant, the small airship I had chartered to take us up and around the city. Caitlyn’s jaw dropped in disbelief as she saw, “What?! Are you serious?”

“Did I stutter? Beni is a friend of mine, and he is happy to take us for a sky’s view of the city.”

As we walked up the walkway to the deck, the yordle ran out to meet me. “Jack!” he said in a high pitched voice, “It’s great to see you again.” He turned to Caitlyn, “Sheriff Caitlyn, I’m honored to have you on my ship, and it’s my pleasure to take you for a sky’s view of the city.”

Caitlyn laughed and extended a hand to the yordle, “Captain Beni, it’s nice to meet you, and I’m glad to be on your ship.”

The two talked for a little bit, leaving me to reach into my pocket and grab hold of that little item that I had bought three days past. Beni jolted me back to reality by saying, “And with that, we’re going to cast off!”

The takeoff was slightly terrifying, since I had always had an oddly deathly fear of heights… okay, well not of heights, but of falling to my death, and I clung onto the rail with white-knuckled hands as the airship drifted up above the city. When the ship finally stopped rising, Caitlyn and I looked out across the city of Piltover, which had come alight like a thousand thousand little candles flickering on the ground.

We were both speechless until I finally snapped out of it. We enjoyed the view for a little while, pointing out sights like the tea house and Piltover Customs, the little house we shared, and the Dancing Badger where we first ate together.

Fifteen minutes passed until I turned to her, my face earnest. “Caitlyn,” I said quietly.

She looked at me with a massive grin on her face, her hair flowing gently in the wind, her hand taking mine, our fingers entwining, “Jack, this is amazing! You really didn’t have to do this.”

I smiled, nervous as to what was yet to come, “but I did. You see, it’s been one year. Twelve months. Fifty two and a half weeks. Three hundred and sixty five days that we’ve known each other. Looking back, it was nothing, but during that time, we have celebrated, we have laughed, we have loved.”

Caitlyn’s grin was slowly fading, nervousness coming onto her face as it was assuredly on mine, “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m trying to say that we have had a great time together, but I think that it is time for this phase of our relationship to end, and the next to begin.”

She put her hands over her mouth, her face shocked as I removed a small dark wooden box from my pocket and lowering myself to one knee. I opened the box, revealing the very special item from the very special shop.

It was a ring. A ring of silver with a bright purple amethyst set in the middle of a ring of diamonds, the latter gems forming a shape similar to the cog necklace she always wore. As she looked at the ring, set on that cushion of dark velvet, she began laughing and crying at the same time, sparkling tears flowing down her cheeks.

“Caitlyn, Sheriff of Piltover, my love, will you marry me?”

The only answer I got was her hauling me to my feet and kissing me fervently.


End file.
